Chuck's Secrets
by BookCaseGirl
Summary: TAKEN FROM GGirl-CB4BW'S PROMPT. Blair discovers some hidden tapes in Bart Bass's office after his funeral, and when she views them, she learns some interesting tidbits about Chuck's life childhood and beyond . More detailed summary inside.
1. The Funeral

**Title: **Chuck's Secrets

**Author:** BookCaseGirl

**Date:** January 3, 2010

**Rating: **Mostly T...some could be M.

**Classification:** Drama...with the romance that can only be described as Chuck and Blair :)

_**Summary: Blair discovers some hidden tapes in Bart Bass's office after his funeral, and when she views them, she learns some interesting tidbits about Chuck's life (childhood and beyond). As she struggles with her own life at school and her relationship with Nate, she finds that these tapes unleash some unlikely feelings for her fellow scheming partner.**_

**Author's Note:** Bah, technical difficulties...the holidays...I have a billion excuses for not having gotten this up sooner...but I won't go into them. All that matters is that it's up, and I really hope it's enjoyable for everyone.

**Disclaimer:** I wish I owned Gossip Girl, because then I could manipulate the show so it revolved around Chuck and Blair (;

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"_So I'm gonna give all my secrets away..."_

_Secrets – OneRepublic_

"_Holly!....Miss Golightly...!"_

"Blair..._Blair!_"

"Mmm? No, Paul! Not now! Just let me look, please."

"Oh, for God's sakes. Blair, wake the hell up! It's an emergency." Serena was shaking her awake, and she opened her eyes, adjusting to her surrounding with blurry eyesight.

"What is it, Serena? I was having a damn good dream." She remembered it as if it were real (though with how frequently she had the dream, that wasn't surprising), and simply wanted to fall back asleep and finish it already. The Tiffany's dreams were the best...much better than the dreadful scenarios from Charade, and the mediocre ones her subconscious gave her from Funny Face.

"It's Chuck. Nate called me, and he needs help. He told me we all needed to be there, and that includes you." Oh, that's right, she thought. The funeral was today. Chuck hadn't seemed terribly out of sorts, but then again there wasn't a lot of him that Blair saw normally.

"But...he's been fine, Serena. What could have possibly gone wrong?"

"I guess he had some sort of bender last night. Nate said it was worse than the whole Tahiti incident."

Blair's eyes widened, and she was suddenly very alert. Chuck was her perfect match in ways of scheming and deceit, the last thing she needed was to lose him. He was Blair Waldorf in an Armani suit and a bow-tie for Christ's sake. She'd feel incomplete without him.

For Nate to have said it was worse than Tahiti meant that this had to have been one hell of a mishap. The "Tahiti incident" as it was not-so-affectionately called by their close group, had happened about three years ago after a particularly bitter and nasty fight between Chuck and his father. None of them knew what had happened during that dispute, nor did they ever expect to find out. But whatever had been said, whatever had been done, had affected Chuck more than ever before.

He'd come back fifteen different kinds of smashed and out-of-it. As he had continued to swerve in and out of consciousness, Blair, Nate, and Serena had the phone at the ready to call an ambulance. They had no knowledge of just how much had gone down his rabbit hole, and to be honest, they'd all been scared shitless (or so it'd seemed to Blair). Luckily, with a miracle drug and alcohol cure that Serena had unearthed from inside his underwear drawer (of all the places), he was fine and dandy (or as fine and dandy as someone like him could have been) about a day and a half later.

"Nate must have been over-exaggerating. He's the drama king of the Upper East Side, Serena. He was only exaggerating!" The more Blair said this to convince not only Serena but herself as well, the less she believed it.

As Serena raised her eyebrows disbelievingly in Blair's direction, Blair rose and picked up the outfit she'd laid out last night. It was a perfect funeral outfit (oh yes, that was morbid, but she was Blair Waldorf and could say whatever the hell she wanted) – a modest black Dior dress with a velvety navy blue shawl to go over it. She had only three accessories (after all, it was a funeral; best to keep things minimal): a black velvet Jennifer Ouellette headband (with a bow, of course), and a simple diamond necklace from Tiffany's, with it's matching set of earrings.

No more argument was necessary. It was obvious to Blair and Serena that Chuck was screwed up and needed his friends. Without any further discussion, Serena went downstairs to wait for Blair to get dressed, and they left about an hour later.

While in the cab on the way over to the van der Bass (er...more the van der Woodsen, once again) residence, Blair and Serena were morbidly silent. It was a sad morning across the Upper East Side. They'd lost one of their leaders, one of their most influential.

And one of their most flagrant bastards.

Blair was angry. Chuck was second best to Serena on her friend status (apologies to the minions, who she didn't care about in the _least_; and Nate didn't count, for he was a boyfriend, on an entirely different shelf of her brain), and that meant she got pissed when someone took him down a notch, or a few hundred when it came to Bart Bass. Sure Chuck could be an ass sometimes, but he was misread, just like her. He made mistakes, like any other human being. It annoyed her that Bart refused to acknowledge these things. That he refused to spend time with his 'screw-up of a son' (his words, not her own) because in his mind everything Chuck had done was just to upset him. Little did he know, Chuck was only trying to get his attention, however ill his methods may have seemed.

Enough, she thought to herself. It's no use being angry at someone who is dead, especially on the one day you're supposed to pay respects to them.

Blair folded her hands in her lap and stared out the window again, sighing heavily.

It wasn't that she cared that much. Chuck was her friend. And no one screwed with Blair's friends, if they knew what was good for them.

"Blair, we're here." Serena squeezed her hand slightly and Blair got out of the car. The latched arms once outside and walked in, ready for whatever would come their way.

_**********_

Three hours later, and Chuck was still hopelessly retching. His cough seemed to have improved a bit, but Blair was worried he wouldn't arrive to the funeral on time.

It really was worse than Tahiti, just like Nate had said.

"I think we should try to get him dressed. The ceremony starts in like, half an hour." Nate was stroking Blair's arm absentmindedly and pecked her on the lips before turning to Chuck, who had fallen asleep once again (it had to be the twelfth time in the last hour).

He was snoring obnoxiously, and Blair turned away, wrinkling her nose at the smell of urine and scotch that emanated from Chuck's body.

"I hope that by 'we', you mean _you_, because there's no way in hell I'm going through _that_." Blair nodded at Chuck with a look of disgust on her face. Serena was downstairs, but Blair was fairly certain the blond would have had the same reaction.

Nate gave Blair a good-natured chuckle in response, just as Serena entered, the strongest-smelling coffee and sweetest-smelling donuts in her arms. She smiled that luminous smile that always lit up the entire room.

Apparently the light was too much for Chuck Bass. He sat up in bed, growling unintelligibly and slapping Nate's hand (currently unbuttoning Chuck's pajama shirt) away. Chuck glared in Blair's direction (it seemed his eyes couldn't even properly focus on one particular thing). He didn't even look at Serena, though she was holding part of the cure to his ailment. Obviously he didn't care (_obviously_).

"As much as I appreciate the fake concern, guys, you can all leave now. I have a funeral to dress _down_ for."

They glanced at each other and then back at Chuck, who was smirking evilly, and obviously didn't give a shit what any of them thought.

"Out, out. Gotta find my Juicy sweats." He said in a sad attempt at a gay voice, and then stood and ushered them out, limping pathetically the whole way.

Blair was the only one who did not budge.

"You guys can go. I'll stay."

Serena and Nate didn't need to be told twice, and so they left.

"While I do appreciate the effort for a quick little screw before the funeral, don't you think dear Nathanial would be a bit shocked and heartbroken? Not that I really care." He was advancing toward Blair and she shoved him backwards. Chuck stumbled much more than she would have thought and fell to the ground, a coughing spell overtaking him as he hit the carpeting.

"Sorry," she mumbled, helping him up. He used what little strength he had to get even closer to her, his face right up in hers, and his bile-scotch-weed-smelling breath assaulted her face.

"Ew! Chuck, could you _not_ be a pervy, disgusting asshole for about five seconds?! Get up, get dressed, and do it _now_. You're going to your damn father's funeral." She smoothed her dress down and looked into his face.

"Why are you here, anyway?" he asked in a nearly nonexistent whisper. She recognized what was in Chuck's voice – it was vulnerability, and she recognized it because of just how much she had used it herself.

"Because you and I -" she gestured between the two of them "- are the most similar two of our group, and I think I'd be best to help you. I can understand what you're going through."

"Your daddy was gay, he didn't die, Waldorf."

Tears rimmed her eyes and she whispered, "But I still lost him." She swallowed and rolled her eyes to prevent the tears from falling.

"Oh, please spare me the drama queen act. If it'll make you shut the hell up, I'll get dressed. Unless you really want to see all of this undeniable sexiness," he said dryly, "I'd leave. Now."

"Fine."

_**********_

Forty-five minutes later, Chuck and Blair arrived at the funeral – late of course, because Chuck wouldn't have had it any other way, and this time, Blair couldn't fight him off.

"Don't make me get out of this car," Chuck whined.

"Get out, Bass. Quit being a whiny baby and say goodbye to your father." Blair opened her door and walked over to his side of the limo, opening the door and giving him her hand to help him get out.

He groaned as they walked across the grassy yards of the churchyard, but walked nonetheless. They reached the church and Blair sat Chuck down in the front row with Bart's other family, then went back to sit with Nate and the Archibalds, who were conveniently sitting right next to her mother and Cyrus.

She watched him walk up the aisle and to the casket, laying a single red rose (obviously chosen by Lily, for Blair could not imagine Chuck wanting to get his father anything in his current state of mind) on the top of the cherry-wood coffin. He walked back to his seat stoically and sat down in an almost robotic manner.

And just as she was about to walk out of the church – the funeral was officially over after all (except for family members who still wanted to pay respects) – she saw one single tear on his cheek.

It appeared Chuck Bass was human after all.

**_Please review._**


	2. The First Secret

**Title: **Chuck's Secrets

**Author:** BookCaseGirl

**Date:** January 10, 2010

**Rating: **Mostly T...some could be M.

**Classification:** Drama...with the romance that can only be described as Chuck and Blair :)

_**Summary: Blair discovers some hidden tapes in Bart Bass's office after his funeral, and when she views them, she learns some interesting tidbits about Chuck's life (childhood and beyond). As she struggles with her own life at school and her relationship with Nate, she finds that these tapes unleash some unlikely feelings for her fellow scheming partner.**_

**Author's Note:** Oh my goodness. I can't say enough how very much I appreciate the great response to the last chapters, so thanks everyone! An anonymous reviewer ("rr") asked why Nate and Blair are together, and I can totally understand why that's confusing. The whole premise of this store is built on the fact that everything is the same as the beginning of season 1, but takes place in season 2 – meaning Nate and Blair are together and [fairly] happy, and Chuck and Blair have not had the limo scene, and are not together in any way shape or form. I hope I didn't lose anyone, especially from the lateness of this particular chapter's posting. I've been insanely busy, but I'm happy to have gotten it up (however late it may be) and hope everyone enjoys!

**Disclaimer:** I wish I owned Gossip Girl, because then I could manipulate the show so it revolved around Chuck and Blair (;

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_The First Secret_

Just before Blair was able to leave the funeral, Serena and Nate had desperately come after her, bombarding her for help getting Chuck home. Apparently, he'd taken another turn for the worse (unbelievable to her), and she seemed to be their greatest asset. (She supposed the fact that she got him to the funeral was what _made_ her that asset, but oh well).

Now the four of them were stuck in Chuck's limo – which now smelled of vomit thanks to his most recent christening (about 3 minutes prior) – and not speaking. The silence was deafening, and there was a ringing in the air that made Blair want to scream.

Though she didn't want to be here – here in this limo, smelling Chuck's bodily waste and his lack of cleanliness – she still was, because that was what friends did. Blair had to believe that he would have done the same for her, along with Nate (well, of course, since he was her _boyfriend_), and Serena (the words best friend _implied_ that she be there as well). She didn't want to think about the fact that Chuck might not have been doing the same for her.

Blair had to admit though, even if he wouldn't have, it still made her feel at ease being here. Because her helping Chuck made her a good person – the better of the two of them (or the lesser of two evils, depending on how one looked at it) – and that was always positive.

There was still complete and utter silence permeating the air inside the car when they reached the Palace. The Basstard had since fallen asleep and Serena (her manly build allowed her more strength than the average woman) and Nate yanked him out. For her part, Blair slapped Chuck's face until he awakened, spitting on the sidewalk they now stood on.

The doorman shot them a look, as if the precariousness of their situation was making him consider a call to the authorities. Blair glared back and helped Chuck hobble inside (with Nate bringing up the rear and Serena on the other side).

"Oh, how saintly you all are! Saving the poor Bass boy from the dark depths of grievance. Congratulations. You should all get nationally recognized, or at the very least receive a very nice little plaque. Excuse me, Paula! Yes, you. Please call the nearest plaque-making..."

"Chuck, stop. You're making a fool out of yourself," Serena said sharply, her sisterly protectiveness (yes, even Chuck got that every now and then) dripping from each word.

Let's just get upstairs, man." Nate pushed him along and mumbled into his ear, desperately trying to prevent a major scene (that would, of course, end up in the papers) from happening.

They all made it inside the elevator successfully, much to Blair's relief. Chuck was slumped against one of the walls of the elevator car, his eyes half-lidded and his mouth slacking. She sighed, trying to mentally prepare for what was inevitably coming her way this afternoon. She hoped and prayed that Nate and Serena were doing the same, because otherwise they were completely doomed.

When they reached 1812, Blair sat down in the single chair that did _not_ have mysterious and unidentifiable stains on it. She watched as Chuck limped in, totally on his own. Serena and Nate stood back warily, waiting for him to fall over (which was a gesture that just begged for the both of them to help). He sat in the chair across from her, strangely, but she realized that this wasn't so strange when he reached for the full bottle (what, did the satanic maid service restock his supply now? Bitches.) of whiskey that was on the table in between them.

She lunged across the space between them, reaching for the bottle, but falling on her perfectly made-up face instead. Blair sat up, defeated, and didn't even bother glaring at Chuck, because at this stage, she knew it wouldn't give either of them the satisfaction it normally did. He laughed darkly at her and she stood up, brushing some imaginary dust off of her skirt.

"I'm going to go see if I can find a mild sedative for Chuckie dearest over here," she muttered to Nate and Serena as she exited the room.

For some reason, Blair had decided to look in Bart's study first. A little voice in her head told her that with the amount of evil that man had accomplished in his lifetime, he probably would have hidden a drug that [most likely] hadn't been subscribed to him in a place where no one else would have thought to look. No one else but Blair. After many a time of having to think like Chuck, this was just the first thing that popped into her head (after all, like father like son).

Turning the knob on the door that opened into the office, she found that it was locked. Of course. Bart Bass would lock his office door. Especially if he had things to hide – scary things that should not have been known by any other soul. But Blair had things to hide too, so she knew exactly where to look – and was surprised to find that she was right. After all, a key on the top of a door-frame was a bit transparent for the almighty Bart.

Once inside the room, she glanced at the closet on the wall farthest from her, and saw that it was slightly ajar. Curiosity getting the best of her, Blair walked over and opened the door, peeking inside. A safe, black and ominous, sat directly in the center of the expansive space. Nothing else cluttered the floor, not a thing was hung on the iron bar towards the top of the closet. However, there was a mahogany shelf above that bar, and as she stood on her tiptoes (being adorably petite had its disadvantages), she noticed that there was box after box, each stacked on top of one another neatly.

Blair gasped, mostly out of the sheer excitement of a good snooping opportunity. Finally, something for her to rifle through, to pick at and dissect and learn about the darkest parts of someone else's life.

But it was always best to make sure one was not to be interrupted during a time like this.

She went back to the doorway, listening for footsteps. Instead, she heard a voice – multiple voices, actually. Blair quietly – carefully – took tiny steps into the entrance to the living room, pressing herself against the wall so no one could spot her.

"Chuck, _stop_. How come Blair was able to get you out of here without any trouble? What's so different about her?" Serena's voice floated towards her ears, and Blair's eyebrows rose in wonder. She hadn't thought of this, but it was a legitimate inquiry. She wondered what the answer would be, and stuck around for it.

There was no answer. Why she had expected there to be, anyway? Chuck Bass was a lot of things, but easy to cope with was not one of them. Blair sighed and slumped against the wall, her ears closing up. She walked back to the office and locked the door behind her. Nothing more of importance could come from that living room.

Blair knelt down on the plush carpeting in front of the sleek black safe that was on the floor of the closet. She tried one combination, and only one – it worked right away. The day of Chuck's mother's death, also known as the day of Chuck's birth, but she doubted Mr. Bass saw it that way. Sometimes she was afraid that she knew Chuck and his father far too well; it might come back to bite her in the ass someday.

Inside the safe was a portable DVD player. She glanced at it, examining the brand name (Sony) and looking at how pristine it was. The device looked like it had barely been used, which was very interesting indeed. Blair opened up the disc storage space and saw that it was empty, not surprisingly.

She lay her newfound object on the floor a few inches away from her and stood up. In a far corner of the closet was a step-stool.

"Huh, that's convenient," Blair mumbled to herself as she struggled a bit to pull it out and towards her. She stepped up onto the stool, which gave her a marginally helpful boost. She could now clearly see the boxes – any how they were marked, a detail she had missed before.

Each box alternated in what it said: either DVD or VHS. There were four of each, so it appeared that someone (not necessarily Bart) had had what used to be videos converted to DVDs for the convenience of the modern world and its technology. Blair took a deep breath and secured her hands around the first box that said DVD on it. She yanked it down, surprised by how light it was.

She set it down on the floor and got off the stool, using it instead as a chair. Blair took off the cover of the box and looked inside. On the very top of the box was bubble wrap and a small slip of paper that said: _Ages 6 mos. - 1 yr._ She narrowed her eyes at the slip and tossed it to the side, assuming whatever this was was unimportant. It could have easily been a documented record of a short-lived dog the Bass household had once had. Maybe Bart (or Chuck) had been desperately attached to it.

That was not the case.

As Blair looked farther inside, there was DVD box after DVD box, each with a different label on it. The one on the top – the first one she spotted – said _First Steps; Age: 9 months _on its light blue label.

It did not appear to her that these tapes were about a dog, or anyone else. For as Blair popped the first one (_First Steps_) into the portable DVD player, she saw a small baby, and heard a man's deep, proud voice congratulating the small being on its astonishing accomplishment.

"_Attaboy, Chuck!"_

The baby boy fell down on his behind, and looked up at the camera, his eyes shining with tears. He did not cry, but the proof of his obvious pain discomfort was evident in his eyes.

"_Come on, big guy. Get back up, keep going!"_

She recognized the voice.

A baby's squeal of triumph pierced the silence that was on-screen and Blair gasped.

"_Good job! You made it! Should we go get some ice-ey cream to celebrate?"_

The baby nodded enthusiastically. He appeared to be bright, even at that age.

"_Alright then, let's walk out together."_

Chuck stayed, sitting on the floor and staring at Bart Bass's retreating form. The camera had fallen onto the floor and was in a tilted position, so that the entire view was at a slant. Bart turned around, and smiled amusedly at the small child. He walked back, taking large strides, and picked Chuck up, standing him on his feet. This failed, however, when Chuck fell back down, hitting his behind once again. This time, he let out a yelp, and Bart scooped him up into his arms.

"_Ooh, ssshhh. We'll just try again tomorrow, that's alright." _

He soothed the baby, stroking his cheeks and rocking him back and forth. And after a while, the baby version of Chuck fell asleep, in his father's arms. Bart walked off-screen, into some place unknown (probably the nursery), and came back baby-less.

The screen faded until all that appeared was a black and white static. Blair shut the portable player and pushed it to the side, brow furrowed in astonished surprise and confusion.

That was such a wondrous, private moment. Yet, it was a moment that should have been shared. And she was so happy to have seen it, in a very strange twist of a reaction to the tape. It was a milestone, an epic tale from the life of Chuck Bass.

And it was the first of what she was sure were many secrets that were held between Chuck and his father. It was the first of the many things she would learn about Chuck and his life. She had discovered the first of his secrets – and his father's for that matter.

**_Review...please?_**


	3. The Second Tape

**Title: **Chuck's Secrets

**Author:** BookCaseGirl

**Date:** January 24, 2010

**Rating: **Mostly T...some could be M.

**Classification:** Drama...with the romance that can only be described as Chuck and Blair :)

_**Summary: Blair discovers some hidden tapes in Bart Bass's office after his funeral, and when she views them, she learns some interesting tidbits about Chuck's life (childhood and beyond). As she struggles with her own life at school and her relationship with Nate, she finds that these tapes unleash some unlikely feelings for her fellow scheming partner.**_

**Author's Note:** Okay, I suck. I've been insanely busy with exams and then all this other crap outside of school. I'm really sorry for how long this took. But I have absolutely nothing to do tomorrow (er...later today,actually. Wow it's late..), meaning my entire day will be put into making an extra long chapter four for everyone. Again, I appreciate the response this is getting, and feel insanely crappy that I haven't been able to get things up sooner.

**Disclaimer:** I wish I owned Gossip Girl, because then I could manipulate the show so it revolved around Chuck and Blair (;

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_The Second Tape_

Blair was shocked, to say the least. She didn't know what to make of all this. Was she supposed to go tell the grieving and despondent Chuck that his father had kept all of these memories on hard copy all the years he'd lived in what he'd often referred to as a hell-hole of a home?

She was conflicted. To snoop, or not to snoop, that was the ultimate question. And for Blair Waldorf, no matter the situation, the answer was always yes (without debate).

That was how she found the next little home video that Bart had been hiding away – titled "First Suit." Blair let out a small huff of laughter, and opened the case. She pushed the small button in the middle of the case that released the disc and popped it into the player. Blair heard the whirring of the player as the DVD began to play, and sat back, ready to relax and stay in here the rest of the day – camped out with Chuck's past playing before her.

"Blair?"

She jumped five feet into the air. What the hell was that? _Who_ the hell was that?

"Blair, we're making lunch. Serena asked me to come get you." Nate's voice wafted through the mahogany door and into Blair's ears, and she heaved a sigh of relief.

"Um...I'm really not hungry," she said nonchalantly, shutting the DVD player just in case Nate decided to break down the door or something. She twiddled her thumbs, only wanting him to leave (though any other time she would have wanted him to stay).

"You sure? I can bring you a croissant. I know you love the ones from room service." His warm tone made her melt and she almost (_almost_) felt her resolve weaken, but then she remembered the thrill of a good snoop, and the wall of resolve went right back up again.

"Nope, I'm good! Thanks though." Without waiting to listen for his footsteps of retreat, Blair pressed play again, only to hear his breathing still coming in through the cracks of the door.

"Blair, are you alright in there?" Oh, the ever-caring boyfriend he was. At the _last_ time she ever needed it. Nate would be the one to have the worst timing ever. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm fine, Nate! God, go breath down someone else's neck!"

She could've sworn she heard a 'pms much' uttered from his mouth as he walked away, but honestly cared less at this point. For some reason, viewing these tapes was an exhilarating experience for her – more so than anything else she'd ever really done before.

Perhaps it was peering into the life of someone she thought she knew, but could never be sure, and actually getting some answers; or maybe it was the simple excitement of knowing things that could embarrass Chuck in the need of a dire piece of blackmail.

Blair heard another voice now and nearly jumped out of her skin, until she realized (albeit, very foolishly) that the sound had been coming from the small speakers on either side of the portable DVD player in front of her.

"_Oh, look at you, Charles! You're dashing!"_

She didn't recognize the woman's voice, and looked down at the screen. Her eyes widened at the beauty in front of her. Blair knew that it wasn't Chuck's mother, Misty, because she had seen pictures and it was obvious that this woman bared no resemblance to her whatsoever.

However, the striking features of the mystery woman on the screen were certainly not to be denied. Her lips were full, and glossed with a shade of red so dark that Blair doubted any other woman could pull it off. Her eyes were a pale (possibly the palest she'd ever seen) shade of blue, and her cheeks had a small, natural pink tint to them, as if she'd been laughing recently, or was just a happy person overall.

The woman grinned as baby Chuck (Where the hell had _that_ come from? Now Blair was referring to him as _baby Chuck_?) waddled across the room, testing the boundaries in his new wardrobe. He tripped on his too-long pant legs and fell to his knees, chin wobbling from tears that he obviously wouldn't allow to fall.

The stunning beauty strode over to him with ease and picked him up, cuddling him in her arms and kissing the top of his head as if he were her own child, as if she had carried him inside of her and birthed him herself.

That explained it.

This was a woman that Bart was close with – one of his many conquests over the years.

But there was something different about this particular...er...girlfriend (if you could even call the 'relationships' Bart had girlfriends). She seemed like a more permanent fixture in the Bass household, and this intrigued Blair (as she was sure it would have any other soul who was watching this film).

"_Shall we try again, sweetheart?"_

"_I think that's enough for today, Ellen."_

Bart's voice sounded strained, as if he were busy doing something else and didn't have the time to properly object to the persistence of his son and this Ellen woman and their suit endeavor.

"_But, just look at him, Bart!"_

_Shuffling. "Mhm, Right. No, I understand."_

"_Bart. Dammit, look at your son, will you!?"_

"_Ellen, I'm in a business call. Don't you know not to interrupt me?"_

"_Is that honestly more important than your son in his first Armani? Think about it. This is a big step. You need to witness it, dear."_

_**Slam.**_

Bart's voice was distant in the video now, and Blair could tell that he had left the room to continue whatever call he was in. All that was on the screen was a small Chuck, looking out of place as he stared down at the shag carpeting he sat Indian-style on. He blinked a few times (Aw, were those tears? Did she just say _aw_!?), and then looked up at the camera that sat in front of him.

Ellen was nowhere to be seen. Blair heard nothing now. All that the video consisted of was deafening silence, and a little boy looking into the camera. If it hadn't been so heartbreaking, Blair might have been thoroughly freaked out. But as she looked into those innocent (he hadn't the time to tarnish them at that age) brown eyes, all Blair felt was overwhelming sympathy.

The boy's eyes shone bright with something that she was sure he would deny until the day he died (not that he would ever find out about her seeing these DVDs) – tears.

And that was when the camera cut out.

**Sorry it was short :(. Can I still have reviews, pretty please???**


	4. The Third Discovery

**Title: **Chuck's Secrets

**Author:** BookCaseGirl

**Date:** January 24, 2010

**Rating: **Mostly T...some could be M.

**Classification:** Drama...with the romance that can only be described as Chuck and Blair :)

_**Summary: Blair discovers some hidden tapes in Bart Bass's office after his funeral, and when she views them, she learns some interesting tidbits about Chuck's life (childhood and beyond). As she struggles with her own life at school and her relationship with Nate, she finds that these tapes unleash some unlikely feelings for her fellow scheming partner.**_

**Author's Note:** I kept my promise :) Here's the longer chapter for everyone, filled with an unnecessary amount of angst. Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter as well!

**Disclaimer:** I wish I owned Gossip Girl, because then I could manipulate the show so it revolved around Chuck and Blair (;

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__The Third Discovery_

Blair sat back on the heels of her feet and looked at the Cartier watch that donned her wrist. It was already three o'clock in the afternoon, meaning she had spent a great deal more time in this room than she'd intended to that day. This led her to wonder why someone hadn't come in to check on her in so long.

After all, she'd only come in to get some medication for Chuck; why didn't Serena come to see what she was doing after about fifteen minutes? God knew she'd have done the same for the blond. Jesus, it had taken Nate nearly an hour to come speak to her, and that was only because of his concern for her hunger.

Assholes, she thought, standing up and smoothing down her skirt. She walked over to the door and pushed it open, peering into the hallway. It was dark and ominous, and she began to wonder if she was the only one in the house. It wouldn't have surprised her.

Nate and Serena probably went off to do some more than friendly activities, she thought to herself, a bitter grimace spreading on her face. She shook her head and tried to push the thought away. Though they'd all come far, she still found her mind going to that dark place every now and then.

Blair peered around a corner, and thought about just how absurd she was being at that moment. She'd been in Chuck's house dozens of times before, she knew her way around. It wasn't like she didn't know all the places someone could pop out of and scare the shit out of you (or that she was not presently in one of those places).

The entire house was dark, and she swore it was later than her watch had said. However, upon further inspection (walking into the main area of the expansive suite), she saw the smallest, most minuscule rays of light peeking through the drawn curtains. On the royal blue sofa in the center of the room was a body, chest rising rapidly (and not in the pattern of breathing). She walked a little closer, only to see Chuck.

Sobbing.

Blair followed her first instinct and withdrew from the scene in front of her, if only by a few steps to have herself better covered by the shadow in the room. She heard a gasp, and a tiny groan that escaped from Chuck's mouth. Her eyes widened and she took one step forward again, until he turned his head her way.

She froze, a deer caught in headlights.

But then Chuck turned right back over, drawing into him self again and allowing the sobbing to continue uninhibited. He must not have seen her then, or thought she was simply a figment of his imagination as he must have known just how many drugs he was under the influence of. Just to be safe, Blair backed out of the room, and back into Bart's office.

Not completely aware of her actions, she picked up the stack of DVDs that she'd already sorted through and planned to watch (before she realized how late in the day it was) along with her coat and purse, and walked out of the office, turning off the light and giving one last look around to make sure everything was in order before leaving.

"Leaving so soon, Waldorf?" his voice was raspy, and seemed so close.

Wait, how had he stopped crying _so quickly_? It just wasn't possible. And how could he be such a good actor as to fool her into thinking that she was safe as long as she got out quickly?

Oh, that was right. He was Chuck Bass. Damned if she didn't forget that again.

"Chuck, you should go get some rest." She was afraid of what he would do to her in the state of mind he was in. Anything was fair game – a few nasty gropes that were sure to leave bruises later, or even a black eye. Blair didn't put anything past a grieving, pissed off Chuck.

"It's a little hard to get rest when you hear some little minx prancing around in your _place_ of rest." He grasped her shoulders, and his hands seemed foreign. He forcefully turned her around to face him and pressed his lips to hers, so hard she was sure they'd be purple by the time she left.

It was horrible; nothing like kissing Nate. His tongue pressed for entrance, and she allowed it, but only to bite down hard on his own tongue when it entered her mouth. He grunted in obvious pain and displeasure, and she smirked (though she knew given the circumstances that probably wasn't the most appropriate reaction).

"Fine then. Leave if you will. But know that you _will_ be back for more at some point. You and I both know that." His words were hot on her face and she turned her head away in disgust at the stench of his breath (why hadn't Nate and Serena tried to stick a toothbrush in his mouth?).

"Just go get some rest, Chuck. You've got school on Monday," Blair said in the way that only a real friend could, patting him kindly on the shoulder and turning on her heels to leave.

"Not bloody likely, Waldorf!" He shouted after her just as the elevator door closed. She shut her eyes momentarily, trying to absorb what, exactly, had happened during the course of that day.

It was almost unnerving to her to know that there was this entirely different aspect of Chuck hidden away in the tapes Bart had kept. They were just hidden in a little crevice of the Bass world, off in a closet – out of sight, out of mind. And something told Blair that Bart had barely even looked at those tapes (perhaps the fact that he wasn't truly a human being, but instead a ruthless android sent from space to fuck up each and every person he came into contact with?), that he'd ignored them for all the years (or she assumed, all the years) that they had been put away up there.

Oh, all the times he must have been in there, with all the dusty memorabilia of a life he could have had, _should_ have had. A cordial, kind, and loving man's life.

But Bart was an asshole. Always had been, and was probably continuing to be from beyond the grave. He most likely pointedly ignored the boxes upon boxes of tapes that sat in his office's closet every time he was in there. It was probably even easy for him.

This made her shudder with astonishment. Blair couldn't really comprehend how a person could do the things that Bart had. Say the things he'd said. He was unrelenting, a mosquito that refused to die after the first slap of retaliation. He just kept coming back with his snide comments and rude rumblings.

She crawled into the cab that she'd waved over, zipping up her purse so the DVDs wouldn't fall out. Blair gave the driver her address and leaned her head against the window, watching the buildings fly by outside.

The car pulled up to her apartment building and she took the elevator up to the Waldorf Penthouse. When the doors spread open to reveal her excessively ornamented living room (their place was always done up well during the holidays), she noticed that there were no lights on here either.

Jesus, is it just National-Depression-Turn-Off-the-Lights day? She questioned, rolling her eyes and hanging up her wool coat in the closet to the left of the elevator. Blair didn't even see Dorota anywhere. Upon further inspection (into the kitchen, and more specifically, their large pantry), she spotted Dorota and proceeded to glare at her, which caused the easily-frightened maid to balk and run off to do something else (most likely a tedious task that needn't have been completed in the first place, but that Blair's mother had ordered anyway).

Blair ran her hands along the cherry wood of the railing on the Waldorf's elegant staircase as she slowly walked upstairs. When she finally reached her bedroom, she plopped her black Fendi hobo bag on her bed and unzipped it, taking the stack of DVDs out. Going to go retrieve her Sony laptop, she set it up on her bed and logged on.

As her desktop began to load, Blair went to her dresser and ran a brush through her hair, examining the endless imperfections of her being. The beginnings of a small zit here, a barely-there blackhead, and the fact that her left nostril _still_ seemed larger than the right, among countless other things. She sighed as she set down her brush, fluffing up her curly brown locks before going back to daintily sitting down on her plush bed.

She opened her disc drive and inserted the DVD titled "First Pet." The video began to play, but she paused it, taking time to properly situate the rest of the discs on her bedside table and propping her pillows up behind her so she could be adequately comfortable.

Before Blair pressed play, she considered why she was so very obsessed with these little home movies of Chuck. Sure, it was nice to know some new things about a friend, but was she taking it a bit far? Three in one day, really? Maybe she was becoming a little obsessed. Suddenly, she scoffed at her self-doubt and pressed play. This was all out of boredom. As soon as the school-week began, everything would be back to normal – the status quo would be back in place.

She watched as the screen swirled around and around, not focusing on any one thing in particular. It was at a lower level than the other tapes had been as well. As if...

As if it were a _child_ filming. Of course.

The camera finally landed on a small rodent of some sort. Blair bit her tongue to keep from screaming in surprise.

"_This is Greta."_

A little boy's squeaky, excited voice was heard, and Blair smiled, before catching herself and pursing her lips in concentration.

"_She's my new pet gerbil. Say hi, Greta!"_

"_Charles, let me see the camera. Go pick Greta up and show us how sweet she is."_

It was Bart again, and Blair heard another female's voice (this voice seemed more shrill than the deep, calm one of Ellen from the previous video) in the background.

The younger version of Chuck (now he looked to be about three or maybe even four) strode over to the little fur-ball, picking her (Blair used this term loosely, since she normally would refer to something as revolting as what was on screen as 'it' and nothing more) up and cuddling the little rodent against himself. In turn, Greta (used oh-so-loosely, once again) nuzzled against Chuck's neck and he grinned.

"_Bart!"_

Both father and son's heads jerked upwards at the sound of that same female's voice, and Blair could tell that all the joy had flown out of the room, just as it had seemed on camera. Chuck now looked slightly frightened, and clutched his pet closer to himself.

"_I apologize, Penelope. I was only spending some time with my _son._ God forbid."_

"_So were you also spending time with him when you walked out on our discussion last night? And didn't bother coming home until six this morning with that – that – thing!?"_

"_Oh, get over it. It's just like a little kitten."_

"_Yes, because little kittens gnaw through wires and chirp until their owners go positively insane. I told you not to get her, but no, you just don't listen! You have no respect for my opinion!"_

"_Daddy...?"_

"_Not now, Chuck. Go to your room and play."_

"_But...daddy, I thought we were going out to get Greta some toys?"_

"_Dammit, Chuck, not now!"_

The camera fizzled off into white noise and static on screen, and Blair lay back against her pillows. This particular home movie seemed oddly reminiscent of the previous, which led Blair to wonder if they had been close together, and led her to wonder even more just how frequently Bart had changed his partners when Chuck was so young.

She closed the laptop after taking the disc out and putting it back where it belonged, with the others of its kind. The clock on the other side of her bedroom read six twenty, and Blair opened the drawer in her night-stand that contained her favorite, most worn copy of Pride and Prejudice. There was something about today that made her long for the epic tale of Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth.

No more videos. They were too much, too revealing. Blair felt that she was seeing a part of Chuck and Bart's life now that she was never meant to see. Because of that, she planned to discard of any further evidence of her viewing these DVDs – and return them to their rightful place of storage.

At least she thought this before she saw the title of the DVD on top – "First Real Haricut."

Honestly, that had to be an absolute _treat_ to watch. So just after this last video...and then she'd be done. She'd watch tomorrow after school, and then dash right over to Chuck's (under the premise of checking on her friend and inevitably ending up caring for him for at least a small period of time) and put them back in there place.

That was the plan, anyway.

_**Phew. Review?**_


	5. The Fourth Secret

**Title: **Chuck's Secrets

**Author:** BookCaseGirl

**Date:** February 9, 2010

**Rating: **Mostly T...some could be M.

**Classification:** Drama...with the romance that can only be described as Chuck and Blair :)

_**Summary: Blair discovers some hidden tapes in Bart Bass's office after his funeral, and when she views them, she learns some interesting tidbits about Chuck's life (childhood and beyond). As she struggles with her own life at school and her relationship with Nate, she finds that these tapes unleash some unlikely feelings for her fellow scheming partner.**_

**Author's Note:** Alright. So, computer went on the fritz a coupla weeks ago...I got it back (early!:)) from the shop on Sunday and have been steadily working since then. And the product is this. Oh! I now have the chance to thank everyone profusely (once again) for all the fantastic reviews. So thank you :)

**Disclaimer:** I wish I owned Gossip Girl, because then I could manipulate the show so it revolved around Chuck and Blair (;

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Blair awoke the next morning, groggy and grumpy. She wanted to stay in bed all day, and (alarmingly) also wanted watch the rest of the DVDs she'd 'borrowed' from Chuck's house. School was optional for seniors, wasn't it? She thought she'd heard that somewhere....the second semester wasn't _required_, and they certainly wouldn't penalize students for skipping.

Then again, Yale would probably (definitely) frown upon her skipping an entire semester, especially right before graduation. She was a model student, and it was critical that she act as such until the very last second before she tossed her tasseled hat into the air.

Looking at her clock, she angrily flung her legs to the side, and sat up, her warm just-out-from-under-the-covers feet adjusting to the cold tile of her bedroom floor. She felt like some sort of invisible lead was dragging her down as she trudged into her bathroom, flipping the light-switch and wincing at the bright light that flooded the room.

Blair went to her white porcelain sink and cupped her hands under the faucet, filling them up with ice-cold water. Taking a deep breath, she dipped her head down into the sink and splashed her face. Looking up into the mirror she made a face of disgust at her less-than-perfect appearance (an appearance that any other normal person would have smiled at since they'd just woken up and really didn't look half bad).

She opened the top left drawer and removed her Sonic toothbrush, globbing some toothpaste on and running the brush across her flawless pearly whites. Letting out a sigh once she was done, she grabbed her brush and stroked it through her hair until there were facets of sparkling shimmer that the light caught every way she turned.

As Blair walked to her closet, she spotted the DVDs again, sitting there, silently mocking her. She pointedly ignored them and went into her closet, picking up her previously laid out outfit to get dressed. Once her clothes were on and she thought her hair was perfectly coiffed to perfection (of course, it'd needed to be fixed after she'd pulled her Constance shirt on), she strolled downstairs.

At the table was her very own small feast – enough to feed a small country, in her opinion. The smell of greasy bacon and sausage (most likely Cyrus's doing; he seemed like the greasy meat type) caused her stomach to give a sickened churn and she made a bee-line for the fruit and buttered wheat toast at the far end of the Waldorf's dining table.

Nibbling at her fruit distractedly, Blair's mind wandered to Nate. Where had he gone this weekend? And why hadn't he offered to take her along? Was Serena with him? Why, _why_ was it always Serena? Oblivious to her actions, Blair threw her fork down onto her plate with a crash, ripe honeydew falling onto the floor.

It seemed that she just couldn't do anything right when it came to Nate. She was furious with herself for always being a failure in their relationship, and irascible towards Serena for undoubtedly egging Nate on. Her nostrils flared and she could feel her hands shake angrily as she rose from her chair and stomped upstairs to get her school-bag.

Picking up her over-sized brown leather Coach bag, she continued stomping until the got to the bottom of the staircase, where she came face-to-face with none other than Cyrus Rose.

She _so _was not in the mood for his shit this morning.

"Now, Blair dear, it's probably not prudent to go to school in a less-than-happy mood. It'll just ruin the rest of your day, and I'd hate to see that happen." His stubby, sweaty, red hand reached out to pat her shoulder, but she shrugged away from him.

"As much as I..." she struggled for a word here that would assist her in the masking of her pissed off mood "appreciate your concern Cyrus, I really am fine. Just didn't really get much sleep last night." I was too busy learning about the past of Chuck Bass, she added to herself, smirking dryly.

"Alright, then. Have a wonderful day at school, sweetheart!" He spewed enthusiastically, holding his arms out for a big bear-hug. Blair pretended to not notice and rifled through her bag, dragging out her sunglasses and plopping them onto her tiny ski-slope nose.

She didn't bother to say goodbye to the man playing the role of step-father to her. As she rode the elevator down to the lobby, Blair pulled out her cellphone and dialed Nate's number. He picked up on the third ring and sounded stoned when he did answer.

"Hullo?" His voice was deep and reverberated in her ears, making something inside of her shift happily. It was Nate; he loved her, and she had nothing to worry about.

"Why hello, oh stoned boyfriend of mine," she said, grinning, her voice thick with her suddenly happy mood.

"Blair." He sounded like a deer caught in headlights. Blair really didn't have the stamina for the emotional roller-coaster she was on this morning, and was sure that if it continued, she'd be ready for bed by lunch.

"What's new?" she was deflated now, and her shoulders sagged as she walked down to the corner where she usually met the cab that took her to school every morning.

"Um...nothing!" Sounds like he's covering something up, Blair thought critically. "Just...y'know, hangin' with the guys before school starts."

"Right," she said with a tone of obvious (to everyone _but _Nate, that is) disbelief. "So where were you this weekend? I missed you." Her tone was soft and sincere, and she hoped Nate would regard her in the same way with his reply.

Nope. Never. He never really got the hint.

"Oh, uh. I had to go talk with my mom for a bit. All that trial shit with my dad's really tearing her up."

"I'm sure you can't be much better," Blair said sympathetically. "You know, Nate, if you ever -"

"Blair, I've gotta go. Chuck's waving me over, and it looks urgent." Her heart leapt out of her chest. What if he decided to tell Nate about their little...er...indiscretion over the weekend? Oh God, how would Nate react to that? And more importantly, what the _fuck_ was Chuck even doing at school?!

Nate hung up without a goodbye, and Blair let out a frustrated huff as she turned off her cell and threw it into her bag, not caring if it hit anything important.

As she sat in the car for the five-minute commute to school, Blair tried to run through every possible scenario that could come from a talk between Chuck and Nate. Perhaps he was only talking to his best friend about an assignment (extremely unlikely), or maybe just talking about whose ass Chuck had most recently tapped (a little more probable). But most likely was that Chuck was telling Nate the dreaded information.

And Blair didn't even want to attempt to fathom Nate's reaction. He would be furious. Unbelievably angry at her, when it wasn't even really her fault! Chuck was the one who had pursued her?

...Right?

Right, Blair, she assured herself as the cab pulled up to the curb and let her out. She handed the driver two crisp twenties from her wallet and didn't stay back to wait for change (she felt like tipping a little bigger than normal; maybe karma would be on her side). She walked confidently up the steps of Constance, ready with any number of explanations for Nate.

And then Blair stopped dead in her tracks. Anger, sadness, disappointment...they all coursed through her veins and she breathed them out through her nose in short spurts. She couldn't dispel them from her body fast enough, and she felt her heart race. Her eyes watered (to onlookers, she said it was simply the wind, though she knew better), and her face got hot with rage.

It was Serena. That blond-haired, boyfriend-stealing, little _slut_ was standing by Nate. Their heads were bent closely together, almost as if they'd been...._kissing_ (Blair's head jolted disgustedly, trying to get that sickening thought out of her mind) recently. Nate and Serena were being _intimate_, and right in front of her face, damn it!

She fumed, her eyes slitting and fists clenching. Blair let out a small scream (only really heard by her) and turned on her heel. She'd walk the ten blocks back home. God knew she needed it. Stomping down the street, she broke the high heel of her shiny black patent leather Jimmy Choo halfway down the sidewalk and resisted the urge to throw it at one of the terribly happy people who walked past her.

Screw high school. Screw Yale! If they wanted to decline her application for _one_ day of mental health that she'd taken in her second semester, then fuck them. She deserved better. She deserved better than Nate, better than Serena. Better than she gave herself credit for.

Why was it that she was always surrounded by such betrayal? What had she done to them that it was necessary that they treat like such complete and utter _shit_?

She'd reached the entrance to her apartment building and walked in, her feet still hitting the ground with the same vigor as they had her entire walk home. She jabbed her index finger at the button on the elevator and crossed her arms impatiently as she waited for what seemed like years for the elevator car to arrive.

"Dammit! What took so long!? Jesus people, you think you could go a _little_ faster than snail's speed for once?" She yelled at the innocent family that emerged from the elevator and went out into the lobby. The kids looked up at her with expressions that said 'woah, this lady's crazy', and the parents guided their children away from her as quickly as possible.

Blair didn't notice, though. She was too busy trying to fix her _other_ broken Jimmy Choo, which had gotten caught in the crack between the floor of the main entrance of the hotel and the elevator and broken, just like its mate.

This time, Blair let out a full scream, since she was alone in the elevator. She banged her fists against the walls of the confined space and dropped the shoe, falling to the floor along with it. Sobs began to rack her body, and she felt a wetness on her cheeks (when had that started?). By the time she reached her floor, she was a mess.

She could tell that her hair was in complete disarray and could feel the makeup on her face melting away with each new tear. Blair whimpered as she walked upstairs, her feet dragging on the tile.

The house was dark, meaning that everyone had left for school and work, and she would be home alone for at least another five hours, if not more. Blair went up to her bedroom and dug out some Juicy Couture sweatpants and an old t-shirt of her father's, soft from how often it had been worn. She strode into her bathroom and looked in the mirror.

There was no reaction now. She didn't care how she looked. It seemed that no one else did, so why should she? Blair could probably go to school wearing a goddamn sheet, and no one would even consider shooting her a dubious glance. They just didn't care.

Blair washed the makeup off her face and grabbed her brush again, pulling her long, luscious brown locks back behind her ears. She found a hair-tie buried beneath an old copy of Vogue in her lip-stick drawer and used it to secure her hair at the nape of her neck. She gave the ponytail a gentle flip so that it fell down her back neatly before walking back into her room and surveying her belongings.

Her eyes fell on the DVDs stacked on her bedside table. No, she thought, I can't. I promised myself that I wouldn't. It's not right to just keep intruding on Chuck's life (and privacy) like this.

Oh, what would he care anyway? She said, smiling slightly to herself as she dove onto her bed and grabbed the DVD on top, the same one she'd seen last night. She opened "First Real Haircut" and popped it into her computer, throwing any sort of normal protocol and just doing what she wanted to. No one was around to criticize her, and honestly, Blair stopped caring about what people thought the minute she set foot in her penthouse.

Once the DVD began running, Blair got settled – this time in the fluffy Papasan Chair by her window. She tucked a light blue cashmere blanket around herself and pressed play.

Static sound filled the room, and then the camera cut to a picture of a four-year-old Chuck, sitting in a black salon chair. He looked scared, and Blair wiped the smile that had crept onto her face away.

"_Daddy, is this really necessary?"_

She was fairly certain that though Chuck was smart, he probably hadn't known what that meant at that age, and only said it because he'd heard his father say it a lot before, and figured (somewhere deep within his subconscious) that it might bring them closer somehow.

"_You need your hair cut, Charles. I don't want to hear anything to the contrary, understood?"_

She could hear the shuffling of some papers and the camera was set down somewhere, no longer guided by a person's shaky hand as it was before. Blair could hear the distinct sound of scribbling, and it was obvious to her that Bart had begun to work on something, only half paying attention to Chuck.

"_Yes, Dad. But...it's just a little, right?"_

"_Charles! Just sit there and keep your mouth shut while the nice man cuts your hair, all right? I really do not want to hear it." _

Tears shone in Chuck's eyes and his chin trembled, but he steeled his face against the onslaught of tears. Suddenly, his dark brown orbs were dry, and his jaw was set. Obviously, he'd wanted to appear tough and invincible, even at that age.

"_Hello, there, Chuckie boy."_

No wonder Chuck always hated it when they all called him Chuckie – the man whose mouth this name originated from was...he was _hideous_. Spiked hair that went off in all directions, each spike died a different color. And there was an outrageous shade of hot pink lipstick on his mouth. Little Chuck looked unbelievably shocked and scared – to say the least.

"_....Hi."_

His voice was timid, and Blair could tell that he tried to give the hairdresser (and cross-dresser for that matter) the benefit of the doubt. Chuck gave a cautious twist of his lips and listened as the man behind him explained what they were going to do that day.

"_Now, sweetie, would you like a Frankenstein cape or the one with the ponies?"_

As the man held them both up, Chuck grabbed the Frankenstein one, shooting a look of displeasure towards the more girly of the two. Blair looked to the left of the screen, where Bart was still engrossed in his work papers, obviously caring less what was going on with his son's very first hair cut. She was fairly certain that the stylist could have cut of Chuck's ear and Bart would have simply nodded at the EMTs as they took him away. It was times like these that made Blair hesitant to believe that there really were times when Bart Bass was slightly humane.

"_Ready, Freddie? Here we go...!"_

A loud scream could be heard on the camera, and Blair instantly turned down the volume on her computer. It was shrill, and so annoying that after five seconds, Blair muted the movie as well. When she saw that Chuck's mouth was no longer open, she thought it safe to put the sound back on and did so, watching intently.

"_He's trying to kill me! Daddy! Help! Don't let him do this..."_

"_Chuck, you're overreaction. Jesus Christ, it's only a hair-cut for God's sake."_

The boy's bottom lip stuck out petulantly, but he received no reaction from his father.

Bart sighed.

"_I should have let the nanny take him. Damn, I'm stupid to think I could have gotten anything done here."_

Though Blair was sure that Bart was talking to himself, and himself only, she could tell that Chuck had also heard, by the look of defeat on his face. He slumped visibly and kept his mouth shut the rest of the time as the cross-dressed hairdresser continued to chop away at his abnormally long hair.

"_There! That wasn't so bad, now was it, hon?"_

The man's voice was steadily getting on Blair's nerves and she grimaced each time another word escaped his fuschia-tinted lips. Young Chuck seemed to agree, given his facial expressions when he regarded the stylist now. She laughed when the boy made a face as the man's back was turned. It was one of those thumb-in-the-ear-tongue-sticking-out-neener-neener faces, and for some reason, Blair found it adorable. (Wait..._No she didn't._)

"_Daddy. Daddy, I'm done."_

"_What, Charles? Yes, sure, okay....go ahead."_

"_No, Dad. It's time to pay. We have to go."_

Chuck swiped his hand across the papers that Bart had on his lap, trying to gather them to get his father's attention. The stack spilled onto the floor, and Bart let out a strangled, angry cry.

"_God dammit, Chuck! You can't be patient can you? You simply cannot wait five minutes for your father to finish his fucking paper work. You stupid, good-for-nothing bastard..."_

He went off into mutterings, a profanity slipping out here and there. Chuck just stood there, staring. Once Bart had finished his rant, the boy turned on his heel and walked out of the hair salon.

Simple as that. Without a word, a little _four-year-old_ walked out on his own dad.

And the sad thing was, Bart didn't even go after him. The camera stayed on the papers that were still haphazardly strewn all over the floor until the camera turned off. The last thing that could be seen were a man's hands on the floor, picking up the papers. But they were not Bart's hands, for this man's hands were freakishly neat and manicured. No, it was obvious that it was Chuck's hairdresser cleaning up for Mr. Bass (he didn't even deserve the respect of the title 'Mr.' in Blair's opinion).

That was how the video was left. Son walks out on father, father walks out on conflict. It seemed to be the tragic story of Chuck Bass's life.

Blair wiped the lone tear that had fallen from her cheek, and closed her laptop, staring outside at the fluffy snow falling from the sky.

_**Reviews make me dance.**_


	6. An Unexpected Visitor

**Title: **Chuck's Secrets

**Author:** BookCaseGirl

**Date:** March 7, 2010

**Rating: **Mostly T...some could be M.

**Classification:** Drama...with the romance that can only be described as Chuck and Blair :)

_**Summary: Blair discovers some hidden tapes in Bart Bass's office after his funeral, and when she views them, she learns some interesting tidbits about Chuck's life (childhood and beyond). As she struggles with her own life at school and her relationship with Nate, she finds that these tapes unleash some unlikely feelings for her fellow scheming partner.**_

**Author's Note:** I am so sorry this has taken such a long time to update. I've been incredibly busy, and time's gotten away from me. That said, this chapter is a bit more of a filler, and I hope (notice, _hope_) to get another one up today, with a wonderful little tape in it :). Oh, this was written when I was on NyQuil as well (I've been sick :P), so please excuse mistakes and crappiness.

**Disclaimer:** I wish I owned Gossip Girl, because then I could manipulate the show so it revolved around Chuck and Blair (;

_

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_An Unexpected Visitor_

The next day at school Blair completely ignored Serena. Normally, this would have left her in a satisfied mood, since her blond friend usually knew to apologize at the first vicious glare. Today, however, the ditz seemed abnormally clueless, putting Blair in a less-than-thrilled mood. She floated about the school-day, oblivious to the death-daggers that Blair shot her continuously.

"Damn it all!" Blair screamed as she stormed into her room after school, carelessly throwing her Coach book-bag on the floor next to her large closet. She flopped down onto her bed and kicked her legs into the air (yes, she was quite aware of how petulant and childish that was, but at that moment, honestly didn't care).

After a sufficient amount of no-one's-home-so-I'll-have-a-mini-tantrum time had passed, Blair sat up, her hair in disarray, a few pieces stuck to her Lancome-lipsticked mouth. She looked around her bedroom, eyes searching for....something. Ah, there they were. The DVDs. Rifling through the stack, she found that she had viewed all of the discs that lay there.

What the hell? She could have _sworn_ she'd grabbed more before she'd left the Bass penthouse the other day. Blair must've grabbed at _least_ ten, not this measly amount of four, right? Oh dear, she thought. Since it simply wouldn't do to watch Breakfast At Tiffany's (it was too happy a movie for her on such a shit-filled day as this), she stalked over to the front of her room and picked up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder and walking to the elevator.

She huffed angrily, severely put-out by the terrible inconvenience it was to have to go and get more DVDs – and on _today_ of all days! Stomping out the entrance of her apartment building, she let the _clack-clack_ of her Michael Kors heels calm her, letting out breath after breath through her nose. Blair then hailed a cab, lifting her dainty arm into the air lazily.

"The Palace, please," she told the cab driver politely, sliding into the worn leather seats of the car. Tucking her skirt under her legs, Blair got comfortable for the ten-minute ride, looking out the window without really _seeing_ anything. She was too busy trying to figure out precisely how she would sneak into the Bass penthouse without her presence being too obvious.

The yellow taxi came to what she thought to be an abrupt stop – that is, until she saw that they had arrived at the Palace, therefore the aforementioned ten-minute duration of the car ride had passed. She scrambled to get a crisp bill out of her purse, handing it to the cabbie and practically hurling herself out of the back of the car and onto the busy sidewalk outside.

Ever the poised and elegant Waldorf, Blair walked ahead immediately, setting a brisk pace and walking into the Palace with an important swagger, showing she was meant to be there (even though she technically wasn't). She gently pushed the up button for the elevator and got in, riding up to the eighteenth floor.

Once up there, she looked around. There was no sign of any other person up there, meaning she had the all-clear (what was she, in Mission Impossible now? Jesus Christ...) to walk up to Chuck's suite. From prior experiences of having to get in without Mr. Bass, or any other coherent Bass family member present (Chuck's drunken stupors, Nate and Chuck high as kites, Serena with one of her little psychotic meltdowns), Blair knew precisely where to find the key: right above the door (it surprised her that a family such as the Basses would hide their penthouse key in such a conventional place), on the trim that wound it's way around the entrance.

Upon entrance of the suite, she heard movement. Thinking it was just the maid (someone she could easily fool into thinking she was supposed to be there), she continued her course to Bart's office. However, Blair heard more shuffling the closer she got to the room, and backed up, suddenly frightened. The maid had no reason to be in the office.

She backed up, looking around for something, anything, that could serve as a decent defense mechanism. Aha! In the corner, about twenty steps from where she was standing, was a bin with several umbrellas in it. Blair tip-toed (she didn't want the intruder to know she was there, after all) over to the umbrella storage bin and picked out a red one, holding it up with both hands like a baseball bat.

Carefully, Blair crept towards the office again, completely prepared for whatever met her when she entered. The door creaked (shit!) when she walked in and she grimaced in fear, only to find the person she least expected to see.

Jack Bass.

She hadn't seen him since she was twelve years old, when she had had some sort of adolescent infatuation with the "other Bass man", as he was so affectionately called by her parents and their group of friends.

And there he stood, with that smirk that was so completely his own. It wasn't the normal Bass-trademark smirk that Chuck and his father both had, but a variation of that, more like a smile than a twist of the lips. The white of his teeth shone through his pink lips (and why was she noticing that his lips were pink, exactly?), and his eyes sparkled as he regarded the more grown-up, slightly more put-together version of Blair.

"Well, if it isn't Ms. Blair Waldorf. You sure grew up good," Jack drawled. She swooned, and felt her cheeks warm.

Wait, _what? _Rewind. She did not just swoon. She'd been with Nate for...forever. She loved him. This _grown man_ was not making her swoon and blush! Perhaps she was simply coming down with the flu; it was certainly a possibility, she hadn't really been getting much sleep lately.

"Thank you, Mr. Bass. I just came to...um..." And now she was stuttering. That was just super, really wonderful. She never stuttered, not in front of anyone. She was Blair Waldorf, the picture of perfection and example followed by everyone.

"Please, call me Jack," he said smoothly, taking a step toward her, his smile widening into more of a (leering?) grin. She instinctively stepped backwards, giving a startled jump when the door closed as she pushed back against it.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice was soft, vulnerable, shaky – the nervous voice of a small girl with a (not so) little crush on a..._man_. She cleared her throat and fixed a cold look in his general direction (after all, she couldn't look directly at him, it would weaken her resolve again) as a cover-up.

"I came to pick up some papers so I could take over my dear old brother's position at the company."

"But, isn't that supposed to be Chuck's place?" Why did she care?

"Quite the smart cookie, aren't you, Blair? Technically, yes," he nodded, "but not until he's eighteen. So, for the next few months, I'll be running the family business, keeping Chuck's seat warm for him."

She didn't respond, just looked out the window. From what she'd heard about Jack's managing skills, it wasn't a good thing for him to be running the company for any length of time, even if it was short.

"Now that we know why _I'm_ here, why are you here? Hmm?" He'd gotten closer to her and she could feel more heat on her cheeks and neck. Blair fixed her hair so that it framed her face more – the better to cover up any evidence of the effect he was having on her.

Jack ran a finger under her chin, sending a thrilling (wait, didn't she mean frightening? Yes, frightening) chill down Blair's spine. She pressed her (sweaty) palms against the grainy wood of the office's door and felt like she was suffocating. Her heartbeat was quick and the large, blood-pumping muscle thumped against her rib-cage violently.

Blair took a deep breath, collecting herself. She was nearly eighteen now. Certainly she was at the age where she should have been able to control these sorts of things, and thus, she would (little did she know she couldn't simply dismiss unwanted feelings at the drop of a hat).

She looked Jack Bass in the eyes as she replied evenly, "I came to collect a few things, as well. Some things that belong to Chuck." Or will, one day, she silently added to herself.

"Well, then please, don't let me stop you, sweetheart," he murmured, using his hand to gesture about the room. "You've got the place to yourself."

"Thank you." Blair nodded politely, smoothing down her skirt.

"But know that I'll be back, Blair," Jack whispered, right in her ear, as he began his exit. Before he walked out, he threw one last remark over his shoulder. "After all, with such a beauty as Blair Waldorf walking around, how would I be able to stay away?"

Another shiver – this one a little bigger than the last – rippled through her body and she folded one arm across her mid-section, looking for the step-stool that was inside the closet. Once she'd found the stool, Blair unfolded it and stepped up to examine the top shelf. The boxes were there, right where she'd left them a few days prior.

Peering inside, she picked up a stack of seven or eight jewel cases and flipped through them, looking at the titles to see if any piqued her interest. _"First Book" _jumped out at Blair, as did _"Record Player"_ and _"First Swim." _There were a few others that seemed like they would be mildly entertaining, so she grabbed a size-able stack, climbing down from the stool and setting them on the floor.

She cleaned up after herself and went to grab her purse when she noticed something. There had been a stack of papers on Bart's desk the other day that she'd remembered glancing at slightly – marked "Urgent: Lily." That folder was now gone. And Jack had just been here...

Nonsense, Blair thought. Maybe Chuck had come in and taken a look at it. Or, even _more_ unusual, she thought sarcastically, maybe Lily actually took a folder that was meant for her! Scoffing at her ridiculousness, she closed the office door behind her on the way out.

The DVD's giving her purse a bit of heft, Blair walked out of the Palace in an infinitely better mood than when she'd walked in. Perhaps now her day wouldn't be complete hell, though there were still a few hours for something unexpected and inexplicably horrid to happen.

_**I like reviews. A lot.**_


	7. Tape Number Five, à la Confusion

**Title: **Chuck's Secrets

**Author:** BookCaseGirl

**Date:** April 6, 2010

**Rating: **Mostly T...some could be M.

**Classification:** Drama...with the romance that can only be described as Chuck and Blair :)

_**Summary: Blair discovers some hidden tapes in Bart Bass's office after his funeral, and when she views them, she learns some interesting tidbits about Chuck's life (childhood and beyond). As she struggles with her own life at school and her **__**relationship**__** with Nate, she finds that these tapes unleash some unlikely feelings for her fellow scheming partner.**_

**Author's Note:** An update, from the queen of non-updaters? Yes, I know! So sorry it took so long, once again. If you've looked at my profile, you know that I've been...dealing with some crap. Anywho, I think I may have hit a point where I can update this more regularly. Thanks to those who are still sticking around and everyone who reviewed the last chapter; it means more than you know!

**Disclaimer:** I wish I owned Gossip Girl; if I did, I wouldn't have had Chuck make the douche-move he did last night :\

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_Tape Number Five, à la Confusion_

When Blair arrived back home, she immediately grabbed her laptop, powering it up and sitting back in her black and white striped chair, legs bent at the knee and tucked under her. Rifling through her purse, she pulled out a pack of Orbit gum and popped a piece of spearmint into her mouth, the cool mint coating her tongue. She picked out a random disc, and was pleased to find that it was titled 'first book.'

Smiling, she popped the DVD into her pink laptop's disc drive, listening contentedly as her computer whirred and a window popped up with black and white static. The static gave way to a picture of young Chuck Bass, a book laying open in his lap. He paged through it, his brow furrowing in slight confusion and wonderment.

_Well, this doesn't seem too terrible_, Blair thought to herself. She pulled her black-and-white striped comforter up around her shoulders, the plushness enveloping her in a warm hug. Startling slightly at the sudden noise from her computer, Blair made sure to pay more attention as the video began.

"_H-He's gone away, yes. But your mother will...come. She will f...find this b-iiig mess."_

Blair pulled her head back a bit from the computer, shocked. Chuck was reading the _Cat in the Hat!?_ She never would have thought him as a Seuss-lover. Perhaps more of a Winnie the Pooh kid. He did sort of remind her of Pooh Bear...though he preferred scotch to honey. She smiled thoughtfully and then shook her head. She had Nate; there wasn't any reason to be thinking of Chuck in a way as fond as that. Pursing her lips, she attempted to continue watching the DVD with a detachedness about her.

"_Daddy, hello. Look! I can read! It's that book; the one that Maria brought home the other day."_

Obviously Bart's new flavor of the week.

"_Oh, really? Show me."_

Chuck's dad said this dubiously, squinting at the small boy and smirking knowingly. It was like he was in on some sort of secret, which made Blair unspeakably uncomfortable.

"_He's gone away, yes. But your mother will come. She will find this big...mess."_

"_Read another line, my boy."_

Bart's eyes were dancing. It was like he was getting some sort of sick pleasure out of the all of this; the fact that Chuck thought he was doing well, but didn't know that his own father was reluctant to believe his success probably gave Bart Bass some sort of natural high. It made Blair's stomach roll with the beginnings of a disgusted vomit.

The tiny Chuck – he couldn't have been more than three or four – flipped back a few pages and skimmed his eyes across the words before reading aloud to Bart once again, a small smile playing about his soft-looking, childish lips.

"_So all we could do...was sit, sit, sit, sit! And we did not like it. Not one little bit."_

"_Well, keep going. I don't really feel like the skipping around. Better to hear the entire story. Read to me Chuck."_

The look in Bart's eyes had shifted – an act that surprised Blair beyond belief – and at this point, he looked...dare she say it, proud! His eyes shimmered with tears of joy for his son's accomplishment, and he sat down next to Chuck. The man...he put his _arms_ around Chuck and hugged him close as the boy began to recite words again, from the beginning this time.

"_The sun did not...did not..."_

"_Shine."_

And now Bart was helping him? Without the tiniest sliver of sarcasm or admonishment in his voice? Oh Jesus, what the hell was the Bass father smoking? None of this matched up with the Bart that Blair had known since...well, ever.

"_The sun did not shine. It was too wet to...play. So we sat in the house all that cold, cold wet day."_

Bart grinned at Chuck as he continued on in the story. It seemed that there was very little trouble for him as he kept plugging away at some of Dr. Seuss's finest work. The short children's story was finished within minutes, and Blair even found herself smiling by the end – not only out of pride for Chuck, but also out of admiration for the qualities that had been present in Bart.

Blair had witnessed love, compassion, pride, in a man whom she thought was the most evil human to ever walk the earth. The Bart Bass she had known was calculated, cool, stone-faced. His only smiles were sly, and were shown for something that would benefit him alone. But in this video, she'd noted, first-hand that he really had once been a great man.

Maybe this was a quality that was present in Chuck as well.

She chuckled, snuggling down into the covers again as she continued to ponder away. No, it couldn't be. Chuck was the spitting image of his father (the one that Blair had come to get acquainted with). There wasn't a chance in hell that he held the kind, positive qualities that seemed to present themselves in Bart about as much as warm weather in Siberia.

"Waldorf."

Blair shrieked and slammed her laptop closed, letting it fall on the floor as she leapt from bed and pulled the blankets around her (why? She had no idea, since it wasn't like she was naked or anything under there). Trying to feign nonchalance (_play it cool, Blair, play it cool_), she dropped the blankets and lay them crumpled up on her bed.

Before her was none other than Chuck Bass.

What, did he had ESP or something? Chuck just _knew_ when someone was thinking about him, watching him (albeit in a video, but still).

_Oh, don't be ridiculous, Blair._

She smoothed her hands down her skirt and felt her heart flutter (_Why? Why? Think of Nate...Nate_). The butterflies in her stomach did not adhere to the strict guidelines the rational side of her brain was sending them, but instead flew around and around, tickling her insides and making the need to sit down unbearable.

"What are you here for, Chuck?" Blair asked him, pouting her lips in what she hoped was a sexy way, only to put the pout away when she realized _who _she was pouting at. _Better save that for Nate, you naïve little girl,_ she chided herself, smirking slightly. Finally, she regarded Chuck as she had in the past – as she would on any other day. Blair simply looked at him, awaiting his answer.

"I came to have a little talk with you..." he advanced towards her, a predatory look in his eyes – with something behind it that she could not put her finger on. Was it...fear? No. Worry, perhaps? Well, what did he have to worry about? Even as he got closer, Blair was still unable to deduce what exactly, that hint of emotion behind his eyes was.

"Yes?" she eyed him expectantly, her innocent-doe look coming out. Blair leaned back on her pillows when Chuck sat down on her bed, his eyes small slits (so small, that she wondered for a fleeting moment if he could even see at all).

"I hear through the grape vine that you were paying me a little visit the other day...though I was not home. However, when I _did_ return – from an undisclosed location, of course – I found that an important item of my father's – and now mine, obviously – was missing. I cannot help but believe that you were the culprit." He smirked at her devilishly, and his eyes sparkled with pleasure. "Now, if you confess, I'm sure I can find a fair way for you to repay me, of course."

"Ugh, you're despicable!" Blair exclaimed. Despite her shocked and disgusted surface reaction, beneath that was a bubbling and churning panic. He knew; Chuck had known about the DVDs and obviously he'd gone looking for them...only to find them _missing_. Oh, what an _idiot_ she was. Blair sighed dramatically, looking out her window with bored eyes. "I have no business taking any of your things, Chuck. Now, leave please; unless you have something better to tell me."

His eyes met hers and she could feel something in the room shift. That look from before was back, except now it had more urgency in it. Blair's heart leapt from her chest and throbbed in front of her face before diving back inside of her chest cavity (_Nate, Nate, Nate, _she kept telling herself).

"Not...tell you, as much as...showing you," he was leaning closer and closer. Blair could feel his breath on her lips, and still she wasn't stopping him. She didn't want to. She couldn't...resisting was futile at this point. But, why wasn't...why hadn't she stopped him yet? Nate, Nate...how would this effect them? But then she thought of Serena, how they had been bent close together, intimately talking...only mere hours ago.

And that was when Blair Waldorf gave in to Chuck Bass.

Chuck's lips surged against hers and fireworks cracked and spewed inside of her. She felt lit up, alive. His rough hands caressed her sides as he slithered nearer to her, their bodies pressing together (melding perfectly, nonetheless). He brought a warm hand up near her breasts, unbuttoning three or four buttons on her blouse.

Heavy breathing, hearts beating in unison – this was what she'd been missing with Nate. It was...right, so right. She bit her bottom lip and leaned into his mouth once again, teasing him with her tongue and pulling away, her eyes looking sleepy and dazed (his the same).

She throbbed, she ached – there was so much Blair felt that had never, not once, been induced by her golden-haired, all-star boyfriend, Nate. Chuck pressed against her harder and harder – but they still weren't close enough. Blair needed him to be one with her – not necessarily in the sexual sense, but in the sense that she..._needed_ him against her, fully pressing on her, letting her know that he was there, that he wasn't leaving. His thumbs stroked the purple lace of her bra, and slipped underneath as he let out a hot breath in her mouth.

Blair jolted awake, a thin line of drool trailing from the corner of her mouth down her neck. Grimacing at how incredibly gross _that_ was, she tried to recall her dream. Panting heavily, Blair found that she was still pleasantly warm from the scenario that her subconscious mind had conjured up for her this afternoon.

Her laptop still sat on her lap, unmoved. Strangely, it did not seem as startled by her sudden falling asleep as she was. The screen had gone blank and her battery light flashed annoyingly. Striding over to her desk, Blair plugged in her computer so it could charge and took out the DVD she had been watching.

However, instead of planning out which home video she would view next, Blair lay back on her bed, trying to figure out the meaning of that dream. It gave her a headache. It was confusing, but enthralling at the same time. She felt her stomach turn nervously at the fact that she had had such a dream as this about _Chuck_ and not _Nate_. Why had it been him?

What did this mean?

_**Hope it made sense to everyone. Not sure if the dream part was clear. Review, please! **_


	8. The Sixth Video

**Title: **Chuck's Secrets

**Author:** BookCaseGirl

**Date:** April 7, 2010

**Rating: **Mostly T...some could be M.

**Classification:** Drama...with the romance that can only be described as Chuck and Blair :)

_**Summary: Blair discovers some hidden tapes in Bart Bass's office after his funeral, and when she views them, she learns some interesting tidbits about Chuck's life (childhood and beyond). As she struggles with her own life at school and her **__**relationship**_ _**with Nate, she finds that these tapes unleash some unlikely feelings for her fellow scheming partner.**_

**Author's Note:** Two days in a row...yay! I was thrilled with the reviews for the last chapter. Thanks so much to all who read and left their feedback :)

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Gossip Girl, the show's titled would be changed to 'An Hour of Chuck and Blair.'

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_The Sixth Video_

Blair woke the next morning after what seemed to be only about fifteen minutes – a _restless_ fifteen minutes at that. Her hair was tousled worse than a rat's nest and every time she worked her soft fingers through it, she yelped out in extraordinary pain. Pissed off more than ever before, she stomped into the bathroom and turned on the water in the shower.

Jesus. She'd _just_ showered not even twelve damn hours ago. Having to work through the horrendous knots of her hair would be a murderous job, and it would no doubt set the tone for her day – shitty.

Granted most girls would have exercised a bit of patience in the way of some snarly hair, but not Blair Waldorf. The very fact that her hair had the _nerve_ to tangle up made her blood boil. Plus, she simply did not want to waste her limited supply of patience on a task as trivial as brushing her hair pointlessly.

"Ah!" she screamed when the scorching water burned her skin. She jumped away from the scalding liquid and turned the knob down a few notches. Once the temperature was right, she squeezed a dime-sized dollop of Frederic Fekkai color-protecting shampoo into the center of her palm and massaged it into the roots of her hair and out to the ends.

As she let the relaxing smell of lilies and lavender soothe her anger, Blair felt her thoughts stray to her dream. More specifically, the part where she had chosen to leave off – when Chuck's hands were roaming around on her breasts, teasing her in unimaginably erotic ways. Blair felt her stomach lurch uncomfortably as the pictures entered her mind once again. Although the little dream-elves in the back of her mind may have quite liked this imaginative scenario, when her conscious mind conjured up the images, she knew better than to enjoy them.

It just did not make sense. Not in the least. She adored Nate – forever and always. Sure he seemed to be floating to Serena a little more frequently, but that was nothing. It could easily be solved with a little bit more canoodling on Blair's part. Perhaps she was being too rough on him and needed to just pull back a bit, be more lenient with where he was and whom he was with. Yes, that was it.

Blair Waldorf – Upper East Side's resident tightly-wound bitch – just needed to...loosen up. In terms of her boyfriend, it shouldn't be a problem.

As her almond-scented conditioner soaked in her wet hair, another thought occurred to Blair. Maybe it was _Nate's_ turn to change for _her_. She'd always been ready and willing to completely alter herself to better fit his needs, but who said that it needed to be Blair every single time? Perhaps Nate should step up now, and change himself.

Blair shook her head, smiling wistfully. Who was she kidding? Nate wasn't the type to transform himself into Wonder-boyfriend just because Blair asked (no matter how nicely, and no matter what the asking was accompanied with). Sure he'd _try_, but usually in the end, his efforts just didn't make the cut. He always reverted back to his old ways, much to Blair's chagrin.

Drawing the silk curtains in her shower, Blair checked the time. She still had about fifteen minutes before she was expected downstairs for the traditional Waldorf-Rose Saturday morning pancake breakfast (which she usually just ended up dumping in the trash, anyway). Flipping off the water in the shower, Blair stepped out onto the shag rug in her bathroom and wrapped a luxurious, fluffy white towel around her torso.

Blair padded into bedroom, where Dorota had come in and lain her clothes out on the bed. Scurrying over to her lingerie hutch, Blair yanked out a pair of pink lace La Perlas and their matching bra, tossing the panties on under the towel before whipping it off and tossing it in the corner. After fastening her bra, she ambled back towards her bed and picked up the dark-wash Guess skinny jeans and floral-printed BCBG blouse that were waiting for her.

Once dressed, the young woman tucked her feet into a pair of old slippers and dragged herself down to breakfast. She entered the room with a scowl on her face at the nauseatingly delicious smell of pancake batter wafting from the kitchen. Her mother, Cyrus, and Aaron were all seated around their gorgeously decorated table, staring at her expectantly.

"What?" she sniped at the members of her family. They all glanced at one another and she folded her arms across her chest, glaring at them before taking her seat. Blair lay her napkin across her lap and smiled politely at Dorota (the one person who seemed to do her no wrong) as she picked two tiny blueberry pancakes off of the plate that was offered to her.

She began to cut into their warm fluffiness and even took a bite here and there (when she wasn't pushing the food around her plate to make it look as if she was eating, that is). After it seemed she had eaten enough (three bites, though it looked closer to six with her expert hiding abilities), Blair pushed away from the table, mumbling a thank-you for the breakfast, and taking her morning mimosa upstairs with her.

Blair breathed a sigh of relief once she was in her room, and sat down on her bed, twiddling her thumbs agitatedly. Her mind was a mess – so unorganized, millions of thoughts flying this way and that. She couldn't seem to focus on any one thing, until something took away what little bit of focus she may have had.

The shiny case of one of the Bass family home movies caught her eye and beckoned her. It taunted and teased, and Blair couldn't fight how immensely drawn she was this time. She'd learned so much from the other movies, seen so much more than she'd ever thought had transpired in the Bass household. Why not learn more? It might help her in the future with Chuck (wait, scratch that, she and Chuck had no future. After high school, she would be off to Yale with Nate, and Chuck would...well, he'd probably be under some sort of sexual harassment charges, if she was being totally honest).

Walking over to her makeup table, she extracted the DVD that seemed to be calling her name the loudest. The title read "_First Swim_." Blair pulled over one of her lounge chairs from the corner by her window and sat in front of her cherry-wood desk – where her laptop sat, plugged in and charging. She opened up the computer and put the disc in, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for the movie to start.

Spots of water were splattered all over the screen as it panned around what appeared to be an indoor pool area – maybe even a local YMCA. Blair's eyebrows furrowed in confusion when the camera crashed to the ground and all she saw were large feet, running far away. Then there was another set of smaller feet (more a child's size), before she saw an entire body laying horizontal on the brick floor of the pool area.

"_Charles? Chuck...Chuck! Charles Bartholomew, if this is a trick rest assured."_

The boy sputtered and coughed, but did not respond to his father's frantic questions.

"_I'm sorry. I'm not angry. Just worried. Cough twice if you're alright; if you can breathe; if you feel okay. Chuck?"_

Chuck, who (once Blair got a closer, longer look) seemed to be about six years old now, just let out a few slow breaths before he got into another fit of choking coughs. Bart pushed down on his son's chest, making an obviously caring effort to relieve Chuck. He seemed to quiet down after an eternity of hacking convulsions under his father's hands, and even attempted to form words almost immediately after the coughing ceased.

"_Dad? Sorry I let you down. I couldn't do it this time. I know...I should be able..."_

Another lung-scraping cough.

"_Should be able to swim by now. Everybody else can. I even saw N-Nate -"_

His teeth were chattering and Blair was overcome with an urge to reach through the screen and hold the little boy until he was warm and safe. Wait, _what_? She shuddered, shaking away that thought.

"_He was swimming, and Blair looked at him...she looked at him like he was some sort of God or something. Daddy – I, I mean, father, I just wish she would look at _me_ like that once."_

"_Chuck, I think you and I need to have a little talk about the Waldorf girl. She's...well...do you understand what I mean if I say she's...er...out of your league? The Blairs of the world just belong with the Nates, it's how it goes, son. I suggest you halt any beginnings of a crush."_

"_But...it's not that easy. I thought maybe if, if I -"_

"_Charles, I am saying this to _protect _you, you understand? No need for you to get hurt so young."_

Blair was a tad frustrated at the fact that the camera had not yet been tilted up, and it did not seem that it would be adjusted any time soon. Apparently, she wouldn't be able to see a lot of physical emotion in this video, which for some reason, made her stomach sink with a sudden sadness.

"_Can I try again, father, please?"_

"_Not today, Chuck. This...this has been enough for one outing. You can try again...maybe next week. Yes, we might have better luck then."_

Bart's voice sounded wary and was laced with extreme exhaustion. Why, though? What did he have to be tired about? He was the ultimate workaholic; the man never slept, for Christ's sake.

But then again, it appeared that his son had almost drown in a public (or private, for all Blair knew) pool. That was probably enough to tire out any man, any real father.

This new side of Chuck's dad scared Blair a little. It frightened her because she was starting to understand why her good friend was as screwed up as he was to this day. His father was practically bi-polar, moods fluctuating each and every second, it seemed, and with a dad like that, what kid wouldn't grow up feeling unwanted and unworthy of his parent's love?

Knowing Chuck more...it was something that made Blair apprehensive. Sure, it had been fun when she was just scratching the surface; she was learning about new and exciting things in Chuck Bass's life, even things that she might be able to use against him at some point. But now, things were getting a bit more intense. There was so much sympathy she wanted to show for Chuck now, she wanted to be there – to be the person that he always turned to – but, um, in a friendly way...that was what she meant, right?

Or...maybe...

She felt herself getting attached.

Wait. No.

Attached was the wrong word. Blair noticed that she was...that...oh, fuck it all. It was time to face the facts. Maybe she was, in fact, getting _attached_. Bloody hell, what if she was...what if...?

Could she be _falling_ for Chuck Bass?

_**Not too sure about this one...sorry if it wasn't up to par :(. Reviews will up my stamina for longer chapters and more frequent updates though...(;**_


	9. Facing Facts

**Title: **Chuck's Secrets

**Author:** BookCaseGirl

**Date:** April 8, 2010

**Rating: **Mostly T...some could be M.

**Classification:** Drama...with the romance that can only be described as Chuck and Blair :)

_**Summary: Blair discovers some hidden tapes in Bart Bass's office after his funeral, and when she views them, she learns some interesting tidbits about Chuck's life (childhood and beyond). As she struggles with her own life at school and her **__**relationship**_ _**with Nate, she finds that these tapes unleash some unlikely feelings for her fellow scheming partner.**_

**Author's Note:** I'm taking a bit of a break with this one...for some quality C/B interaction. I'm disappointed in myself for not including it sooner :( Something else I'm rather mad at myself about is that I didn't really address Blair's reaction in depth (or at all, for that matter) to the bit in the tape when Chuck said he had a crush on her. In fact, I didn't even include anything, if I remember correctly. I apologize for that mistake. As I've said in a couple of replies, I think I just got really wrapped up in my writing, and didn't necessarily pay as much attention to the slightly important things like that. Anyway, no new tape this chapter, but enjoy what I do have in store ;)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gossip Girl. Sorry.

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_Facing Facts_

It wasn't possible. She was not falling in love with him. He was Chuck. He was the biggest sleaze-bag to ever walk the earth. But...maybe she'd been wrong? Was it possible that there was more than met the eye when it...

Stop it Blair! She scolded herself severely. Shaking her head, Blair began to pick up in her already impeccably clean bathroom. Whenever she found herself thinking about something that just would not leave her alone, Blair chose to clean – and vigorously.

However, once the bathroom was utterly spotless, she found her mind still straying to that...Basshole. How dare he invade her thoughts? What gave him the right? She belonged to Nate; they would marry one day, despite what seemed to be a smidgen of unwillingness on his part. Nathanial and Blair Archibald – it was practically set in stone. Yes, that was the only path for her in life. Marry Nate, have kids, be the successful, doting, and charitable housewife of a prominent Upper East Side man, just as all the Waldorf women before her had done.

But, what if? That was the ever-present question (well, ever-present in the sense that she hadn't been able to push it from her mind since her horribly descriptive dream the day before); the inquiry that kept her awake night after night. She was curious...Blair just wanted to test the waters (or so she was telling herself), see how far Chuck Bass could go with someone like her.

And what he'd said in the tape, well, that just added fuel to the fire of wonder inside of her. A new door had been opened for Blair, and nothing seemed able to close it.

Rising from her place of thought atop her bed, Blair stretched her arms high above her head. She greeted the day's sunrise by pulling her sheer, white curtains open and embracing the warmth of the golden sun. She wandered over to her dresser and picked up her brush, running it through her hair. After a precise count of twenty-five strokes (no more, no less), Blair roamed downstairs.

Picking up a bowl and plopping a mixture of green, black, and red grapes into it. Popping a plump red grape into her mouth, she traipsed into the kitchen, pouring herself a tall glass of ice water before sitting down at the island in the center of the room.

After she had eaten only about thirteen grapes and drunk half her glass of water, Blair finished getting ready for school. She'd decided to walk today, just for a change of pace. As she neared the front of the school, her mind was buzzing.

Another day back, after an incredibly trying weekend. Last semester of senior year, she could just skip again; would it really matter? Lots of seniors did it. But Blair wasn't a part of the majority. She liked to stand out; and by attending school for the last little bit she had left, and loading that last semester up with every good class she could, she would easily get Yale's attention.

She was jerked from her pleasant reverie by the yelling of a group of obnoxious St. Jude's boys off in the corner. Glancing over at them, she noticed that someone she knew was stuck in the middle of the group. Was that...? No, it couldn't be!

Chuck Bass!?

He'd never been made fun of. And where did these asinine bastards get off, anyway? Chuck had just lost his father, for God's sakes. Blair felt fury bubble up inside of her and she marched over to the conclave. Tapping the one who was the leader (she used that term loosely, since it seemed that they all shared the same brain, and hairdresser, for that matter), she fixed him with her most ferocious glare when he turned around.

Before she bitched out the useless boy whose name she would never remember, Blair met Chuck's eyes. He looked scared, and upset, and out of place – three things that she never in a million years would have expected to see present in Chuck's fairly skinny array of emotions. She screamed and scolded Chuck's classmate while her good friend just stood behind, watching in complete and total awe (or at least she hoped it was awe, and not something negative, like horror).

"Oh look, Chuck's mommy-figure came to the rescue," the red-haired boy (what was his name again, Jeremy? Jimmy? Something with a 'j', right?) said haughtily to the rest of his comrades. They all cackled in response and she saw Chuck shrink back and slouch even more than before. It was like a knife in her heart to see someone who had once been so strong and witty beaten down in a way such as this.

"Leave him alone," she said quietly to the group.

"Excuse me? Honestly, what are you doing defending him?"

Blair looked to Chuck and noticed that he had straightened up a little, his eyes begging the same question silently.

She didn't know. Blair shook her head in an utterly baffled manner and walked away.

What she did know was that it was time to face facts. She pondered this as she journeyed to the ladies' room. It was time to deal with how she was feeling; she was nothing if not practical and rational. And a person possessing such qualities would confront something like this head on, without stopping to take a breath.

Well, it was time for her to do that. It was obvious that something inside of her was responding to the likes of Chuck Bass, that much she knew. The practical and rational thing would be to ignore this, and have a great rest of her life with Nate, whom she loved (that was beginning to sound like a broken record...). But maybe, just once, it was time to take a leap, to dive into the cold, uncertain depths of the unknown.

She shoved the door of the girls' bathroom open and sat down on a toilet in the cleanest stall. Breathing deeply, Blair tried to calm down. She covered her face with her hands and sighed. Why would she do something like that?

There wasn't time to answer that question, because she heard the creak of the door that led into the bathroom, signaling the entrance of someone else. Flushing the toilet so it seemed as if she had been in there for a purpose (everything needed its purpose), Blair opened the stall door and strode out, only momentarily fazed by what she noticed from the corner of her eye. She coated her hands with the foamy, berry-scented soap and let warm water trickle over them.

His warm presence was behind her within seconds and she felt a wave of something (she couldn't place what) wash over her entire body. Was it desire? Anxiety? Fear? All of those things combined? Anything was possible, or at least that was what Blair was beginning to learn.

"May I help you?" she asked coolly, meandering over to the paper-towel dispenser and tearing off two good-sized sheets of brown paper. Drying off her hands, she tossed the germ-infested ball into the

waste-basket before turning to face Chuck.

He advanced on her, and Blair had a sudden vision of her dream. _Heavy breathing, hearts beating in unison. His hands up near her breasts, exploring the new territory._ She jolted and looked away from him, feeling her face get warm as the ground became the most fascinating thing in the room.

"What, are you having impure thoughts, Blair?" he used her first name. That was the only thing she noticed. Not the fact that he was two inches away – no, that was not of consequence. What was of importance was that he called her by her first name; and said it tenderly. "It can't have been the first time," Chuck whispered with a knowing smirk playing about his lips.

"I…Wait a minute, did you used to like me? Back in kindergarten?" Non-sequiturs. But she didn't care. Blair needed to know, she felt it in her bones; for some reason, it was crucial, life and death, that she hear this bit of information from Chuck's lips, and his alone. Not some tape from years ago; it had to be real, and now.

"Where could you have possibly heard such a thing?" he shook his head disbelievingly, obviously certain that she was just shooting off at the mouth. She could tell he thought she was bluffing

Ah, ah, ah. She wouldn't let that minor detail slip. Blair knew better.

"I'm Blair Waldorf," she stated smugly, folding her arms superiorly and turning her lips up in a sly grin.

"And _I_ am Chuck Bass." A millimeter closer, she could feel the heat between them, the tension building more and more with each second that passed.

"You're not answering my question," Blair murmured, eyes dancing around his face, unable to choose one place to focus on. Everything was magnified when she was this close (and they weren't even that close to one another, yes); he seemed so much more...ethereal, beautiful even.

And she was talking about Chuck Bass here? A man who received the title of Womanizing Alcoholic at the ripe old age of sixteen? Yes, it appeared to be that way, as much as she hated (or maybe loved, upon closer examination) admitting it. He was dangerous, and alluring...and she'd seen so many different layers through witnessing the events in those videos. Blair couldn't help but think those facets of his personality were still tucked inside of him; a person couldn't change so drastically so quickly, of course.

Blair hadn't really been aware of how she was staring at him as she thought all of this. She also didn't know about the smile that had snuck onto her face without her permission. _Way to be obvious_, she thought angrily. She _never _did dorky smiles and dazed stares; Blair wasn't that lame, and she never had been! (Not even back in first grade, when it seemed that all of her schoolmates were spot-on with that lame-ness, maybe even going above and beyond a bit).

He stepped back suddenly, unwilling to look her in the eyes. Chuck's feet shuffled uncharacteristically and Blair tried to make sure that she would remember this. However, she knew – even then – that the memory would always be overshadowed by what she felt – complete and total trepidation. She couldn't stop the nausea that was swirling in her stomach, and her heart refused to stop beating at a high velocity that rivaled that of a Nascar driver's.

"It's none of your business," he mumbled, looking out the foggy window of the ladies' room.

"I think it is," Blair replied softly. Surprising herself, she stepped toward him now, and yanked his face toward hers so that they had eye contact once more. Finding herself immeasurably enraptured by the dark color of his eyes and the emotion that he locked beneath that color, Blair lost her voice for a moment.

When she'd regained her vocal capabilities, Blair stated, "If you have ever had – or still do have – feelings for me, Chuck, I expect you to be a man and admit it. Don't be the coward that you seem to be when dealing with everything else." Her lips were nearer to his now, and she felt a little bit of his my-dad-just-died-I-don't-feel-like-shaving stubble poke her chin.

"After all, the outcome may…" she breathed into his now-opened mouth, "surprise you," she finished the last bit of her thought in the shell of his ear, being very careful not to actually touch him. She heard him release a subdued breath when she pulled away and walked out of the bathroom, swinging her hips from side to side as she exited.

Always leave them wanting more.

_**Like? Reviewww (:**_


	10. The Seventh Secret

**Title: **Chuck's Secrets

**Author:** BookCaseGirl

**Date:** April 10, 2010

**Rating: **Mostly T...some could be M.

**Classification:** Drama...with the romance that can only be described as Chuck and Blair :)

_**Summary: Blair discovers some hidden tapes in Bart Bass's office after his funeral, and when she views them, she learns some interesting tidbits about Chuck's life (childhood and beyond). As she struggles with her own life at school and her relationship**_ _**with Nate, she finds that these tapes unleash some unlikely feelings for her fellow scheming partner.**_

**Author's Note:** I was going for five updates in five days, but this chapter literally took me two whole days to get done because of how incredibly long it is. I considered breaking it up...but there's just too much excitement, and I had too much fun, so I wanted to share it with everyone right away :)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gossip Girl. Sorry.

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_The Seventh Secret_

What had she just done? She didn't have feelings for Chuck; surely, Blair had made a mistake. Perhaps it was all a dream. She and Nate were happy (er, relatively, at least), and doing well (...relatively). There was absolutely no need to ruin that.

Blair had no idea what had caused her to be so utterly impulsive. Did she have some sort of disorder that made her incapable of knowing when to stop something? Honestly, what she did was inexcusable, preposterous. It made no sense for her to be encouraging feelings that Chuck had admitted he had nearly ten years ago; was she mentally ill? _Insane?_

Pacing back and forth in her room that afternoon after school was finished, Blair wondered if perhaps she just needed to be around Nate a little more. They hadn't really hung out much lately (she wasn't sure precisely why), and maybe that was the cure. It was possible that she was just drawing these supposed 'feelings' out of a hole in her heart that was formed from being apart from Nate.

Yes, that was precisely it. She would just go out to dinner with Nate that night, and ignore Chuck completely – for the rest of her life, if that was what it took. Dialing Nate's cell-phone number, Blair listened impatiently as it rang three times and then went to voice-mail. Was he ignoring her for some reason? Oh no, what if he was at Chuck's right now!? What if they were discussing the huge issue that she had created just this morning with Chuck, and trying to figure out what to do with her? Maybe they were trying to brainstorm some of the best mental wards for her to be locked up in.

"Hey, Nate," her voice shook with obvious nerves, and Blair took a breath before continuing. "It's Blair. Just...call me when you get this, okay? Love you...'bye."

Tossing her phone off to the side, Blair fell back on her bed, sighing dramatically and rolling her eyes. The sound of Lady Gaga's 'Love Game' began to fill the room, and Blair glanced over at her phone. She'd changed his ring-tone the day she'd seen Nate and Serena in front of school, looking all cozy. As she picked up her flashing, vibrating cell-phone, Blair made a mental note to change it back. No need for hostility, especially when Nate didn't really deserve it (well, he did, but Blair was feeling oddly forgiving at this point in time, what with her temporary insanity involving the entire Chuck situation).

"Hello?" Blair answered casually. "Oh, hi Nate. What's up?"

"I just got your message. I was at Chuck's, having some quality guy-time." Panic rose inside of her and Blair's throat became parched. He was at Chuck's? It sounded like her worst fears were coming true. "I turned my phone off so we wouldn't be interrupted. Sorry. What do you need?"

He didn't sound very sorry, but Blair let that slide (even though on any other day she would've called him on it instantaneously). She began to pace again and trekked over to her window, looking at the wonderful view of the bustling New York streets far below.

"Well, I was thinking we should go to dinner tonight. Maybe that Japanese place that we liked so much the last time? It's been forever since we've had a nice date, and I figured tonight was as good a night as any." Blair hoped that the smile she'd plastered on her face could be heard on Nate's end.

"Oh, Blair...Um, I was planning on staying at Chuck's tonight. He's having a little bit of a rough patch right now, you know? Uhhh...oh God, I'm really sorry. You're totally right, we haven't hung out together in a while." She heard some shuffling around and then a little bit of static before the line was quiet again – save for the soothing sound of Nate's breathing, that is.

"How about I just meet you down at the Palace bar, then, hmm? Surely you can leave your poor friend Chuck for a few minutes to have a drink with your girlfriend," Blair smirked. "I'm positive he won't mind."

"But, you see -"

"Nonsense, Nate! It doesn't inconvenience me in the least." The plans were set now, no going back. "I'll see you at seven fifteen sharp, down in the bar." Blair clicked off and lay her phone on her nightstand, going over to her desk only to run her hands over something that she had not seen in a couple of days.

The discs' jewel cases were smooth and cool beneath her fingertips and Blair flipped through the few that she had until she found the one that she had not yet viewed – _Record Player_. Throwing a glance back at the clock, she did some math in her head and figured out that if she watched the movie (which couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes long, like the others), she would still be left with about two and a half hours to get ready. That was plenty of time.

Blair dragged her computer out of its Prada carrying bag and pushed the 'on' button. As the laptop powered up, she went into her closet to find a nice outfit for tonight's occasion. After scanning over her ample wardrobe, Blair's eyes landed on a gorgeous Stella McCartney party dress that looked brand new. With its poof-y tulle skirt and sequined bodice, it seemed to say 'hello there, I'm planning on stealing back my boyfriend's heart tonight, without trying too terribly hard to look impressive.'

She lay the couture atop her bedspread before curling up in her favorite chair by the window. Blair logged on and waited for her computer to be completely silent, so she knew everything was done loading. Opening her disc drive, she performed the task that now seemed so repetitive and redundant, something she'd done so many times that it was practically second nature – putting the disc into the drive. The DVD was enclosed within the computer and she waited for the video to begin.

The computer screen was blank, but she heard a faint sound emitting from her speakers. The noise got louder and louder, and then Blair recognized that sound as music – more specifically, the Beatles' hit, 'Yellow Submarine.' Black gave way to a fully colored pictured as the video began, showing Chuck sitting on the floor in the middle of a large, eerily empty room. The walls were a deep maroon color, the carpet a pale gray, and there was scarcely a piece of furniture or decoration anywhere, save for one single recliner off to the side. There was a record player sitting directly in front of him, and he pushed buttons without a rhyme or reason.

"_So we saaail unto the sun, until we foouuund the sea of green..."_

It was Bart's voice singing along with the music, but he was nowhere to be seen. Chuck's hair was ruffled as if he'd just woken up, and Blair suddenly saw a movement behind him, though she hadn't the faintest idea as to what it was.

"_We all live in a yellow submarine, yellow submarine, yellow submarine!"_

Father and son both joined in on the chorus, and Blair found that a smile was stretching across her lips as Bart finally appeared on-screen, looping his arm across Chuck's shoulder and swaying them both back and forth as the swishing water sound effect in the music came on. Chuck grinned and looked up at his dad, who returned his son's happy mood.

"_Again, Dad, again! Let's sing it again!"_

"_Why don't we choose a different song? Didn't Uncle Jack send you a few different ones?"_

Uncle Jack? She never recalled Jack sending Chuck gifts of any sort – ever. Though this appeared to be much, much older than the other tapes she'd seen, Blair still found it hard to believe that Jack had had enough heart to send anyone a gift.

Chuck flipped through a stack of records, searching for something in particular, it seemed. His eyes lit up, and Blair could tell that he had found what he was searching for. He slid the huge 'Yellow Submarine' vinyl into its cardboard case and replaced it with some other disc.

The music began again, and Blair recognized the opening harmonica in 'Love Me Do.' So had Jack only sent Beatles' music? What was the obsession with that particular band? It was like the person operating the camera (another one of the numerous mysteries) could read her mind, because all of a sudden, the view zoomed in on the substantial amount of records that were strewn haphazardly all over the floor. Titles of bands such as the _White Stripes_ and _Jackson 5_ were what popped out at her first, and even _Air Supply_.

"_Loooove, love me do, you knowwww I love you. I'll alllways be true."_

"_So pleeeease love me dooo."_

The duet that Bart and Chuck had going made Blair laugh out loud – though they surely meant well (just a father and son having some fun, after all), both of the Bass boys were tone deaf. She turned down the volume on the computer so she could barely hear their singing, and when that song was over (complete with some melodramatic gestures at the 'love me do' parts), she turned it up again.

"_Now, Chuck, you'll make sure to take good care of this, right? It was your Uncle's when he was your age, so we've got to be very careful, okay?" _

Bart's voice was not harsh, surprisingly, but gentle, instead. He was calmly explaining this to Chuck without the accusatory tone she would have suspected (though Chuck only looked to be about two or three years old in this video, meaning he couldn't have done a lot of thinks to anger his father yet).

"_Okay, Daddy. Am I supposed to call and say thanks?"_

"_Maybe some other time. If you want, Daddy can say thank you for you when he goes to see Uncle Jack next month."_

Bart had gone to _see Jack_ when Chuck was young? This was all so...so new and fresh, and..._downright strange._ Nothing fit. Not that all of the Bass family's life had been a perfectly put-together puzzle before, but at least it seemed to follow a coherent path; now, Blair found that the family was one of the most complex ones she had ever seen. There was so much going on, so many layers to the bitterness that surrounded the remaining Bass members now.

Chuck nodded adamantly, his eyes wide and innocent. Bart smiled and tousled his son's hair, and just before the tape cut out, Blair could have sworn she heard a woman's voice. She tried not to over-analyze, and told herself that she had been trying to make something out of nothing just because of the lack of drama in her own life at that moment.

Closing her laptop, Blair looked back at her clock again. She'd thought right in the timing of the video, and she still had nearly two and a half hours to get ready for her date with Nate. After uncurling from her comfortable position in the chair, she stretched her arms high above her head and took a deep breath, smiling at what the night surely had in store for her.

She and Nate would be fine. That was that. He was the king, she was the queen, and they would live happily ever after in their castle on the Upper East Side, with their expensive limo chariot and gorgeous prince and princess for children. They belonged together; Serena and Chuck were just little blips. Blair needed to keep her eyes on the prize.

Blair plugged her curling iron in an outlet in her bathroom and while it was heating up, she organized her array of makeup, pulling out the shade of lipgloss she planned to put on that evening – DiorKiss's 'Pineapple Cocktail' – and also the eye-shadow she wanted. She went back into her bedroom to retrieve her dress and then hung it on the back of the door in the bathroom before grabbing her brush and running it through her already wavy hair. She picked up her curling iron and clamped a chunk of hair, trying to make her curls more luscious.

Once her curls bounced perfectly with each turn of her small head, Blair opened up her eye-shadow compact and applied a pretty pale gold color to her lids. After three swipes of a dark black mascara, she pulled out her lipgloss and ran it across her lips a few times, smushing them together and making a kiss face in the mirror. She unbuttoned the old dress shirt she'd been wearing around the house (one of the ones her father had left behind, and that her mother had tried to throw away, but Blair had salvaged), and slipped on her dress, zipping it on the side and adjusting it on her small frame

Blair fluffed her hair and examined herself critically in the mirror. No pudge on her stomach, her eyes looked alive and ready for a night of fun. For once, she didn't really see anything wrong with her usually flaw-filled appearance. She exited the bathroom and picked up her purse on the way out of her bedroom. As she walked down the spiral staircase of the Waldorf-Rose penthouse, Blair pulled out her cellphone to check the time. Seven-oh-five, on the dot. And it always took the cab about ten minutes to get down to the Palace, so it seemed she would be right on time.

She hailed a cab as the gentle evening wind blew in her face outside the building. The car pulled over and she got in gracefully, setting her black silk Fendi bag on the leather seat next to her.

"The Palace, please."

"Alrighty, Miss," the mild-mannered driver replied.

Blair watched the sidewalks and building whir by outside the window, the lights of New York blurring together happily. They didn't hit any traffic during the ride over, and she arrived right on time. She walked into the Palace's downstairs bar and sat down at the counter, ordering herself a martini with a twist.

Looking around, she was surprised to see Nate walk in, and right on time, too. Usually he was a minute or two late, and the fact that he wanted to see her enough that he was actually punctual tonight made Blair's heart warm.

"Hey," he greeted, placing a peck on her lips before sitting down next to her and ordering a screwdriver. Blair smiled at him and grasped his hand, holding it on top of the glass of the bar.

"So...uh, what did you want to talk about?" Nate asked her, seeming unnecessarily nervous.

"Did I have to have a reason for asking you out to drinks, Nate?" she asked, gritting her teeth and trying to keep her composure by plastering a polite smile on her face (though her eyes did not hold the same emotion).

"Well, no...but, I mean, usually there's something you want to discuss."

"Nope, not tonight. I just wanted to spend some time with my amazing boyfriend," she said, grinning as she leaned in to kiss him. He didn't immediately return the kiss, seemed reluctant to do so. Blair pulled away and let go of his hand, slitting her eyes at him calculatingly.

"Something wrong?" Nate asked.

"Should there be?" she shot back, her glare becoming fiercer.

"Not as far as I know," he retorted nonchalantly, smiling slightly at her as he took a sip from his drink.

There was a noticeable shift in the mood between them – at least on Blair's end. She immediately felt the need to call him on his inconsiderate, cheater-like behavior, and did so, but in a way that only Blair Waldorf could.

She gulped down a little bit of her martini, the liquor burning her throat as it slid down, and said, "I saw you with Serena the other day."

No need to sugar-coat. She was sick of pretending; sick of ignoring the obvious signs; tired of remaining 'oblivious' to every douche-move (for lack of a better term) that Nathanial Archibald made. He was hurting her, and she didn't want this to be ignored by either one of them any longer.

"Oh...Yeah, we were just...we talked for a bit."

"It looked a little more intimate to me."

"Blair, honestly. You always read so much into everything between Serena and me. I thought you trusted both of us now, me especially!" Nate's voice began to raise, and Blair felt her face flush as anger boiled up inside of her.

"Please! You were practically _procreating_ in front of the fucking _school_!" She snapped, throwing her hands up into the air for emphasis. Nate shook his head at her, looking past her face and out the window of the bar.

"I'm sorry, Nate," she said, defeated. "I just don't believe you anymore. You've already betrayed me once before. It's over." Blair shook her head, tears threatening to spill over from the bottom of her eyelids. She stood from her chair, threw a bill on the counter to cover her drink and briskly walked to the bathroom in the back of the bar, leaving Nate (and everything that had ever transpired between them) behind.

As she journeyed to the bathroom, tears streamed down Blair's face, and she felt her body convulse in barely-contained sobs. Her heart hurt and her hands were shaking as she opened the door to the bathroom, leaning back against the entrance when she was safely inside. She bent at the waist, crying out desperately (she didn't care who heard, she was Blair Waldorf).

She cried for the loss of Nate, for the emptiness that was now inside of her, and the confusion she felt. Her head swam with millions of thoughts, all the possibilities that were before her now.

And then, suddenly, she stopped.

Because she doubted herself. What if, subconsciously, she had just broken up with Nate because of those made-up feelings for Chuck? No, it couldn't have been; she broke up with Nate because she found that she could no longer trust him. She was constantly afraid that he was lying to her, and couldn't discern truth from fiction anymore.

Shaking her head to herself as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror, Blair angrily tore off a sheet of paper toweling and got it wet with some cold water in the sink. She ran the lump of towel over her face, closing her eyes as the cool water soothed her hot, tear-stained skin. She threw the paper into the trash and bent over the sink, her hands bracing on either side of the white porcelain. Blair looked up at herself once again – tired eyes, red nose, and frail body – let out a shaky breath, and stood up straight.

Smoothing her dress down, Blair exited the bathroom, only to have her arm grabbed by a pair of rough hands on the way out. Her first thought was that it was Nate, coming to apologize and whisk her away, but that was something too perfect to actually occur. Instead, she was in a dark corner near the restrooms, and face-to-face with none other than Jack Bass.

"Well, hello there, beautiful. You look sad; surely it's not because of me?" he said, grinning wildly at her and gripping her arms harder so she couldn't escape him.

"Leave me alone," she said quietly, looking down at the floor. The last thing she needed tonight was to be raped by Jack Bass. She struggled to get away from the pervert, but gave up.

"Why, what's wrong, my little dear?" Jack crooned, removing one of his hands from her arm to pull her chin up so she looked him in the eyes – those dark, predatory, frightening eyes.

"Nothing, jackass," she muttered. "And even if something was wrong, you're not first on my list of confidants; in fact, you're at the bottom, along with Hitler and Mussolini."

"Both of which are dead."

"Precisely," she replied, raising her chin up slightly. He smirked at her and ran a finger along her jawline.

"I saw you break up with the golden-boy," he whispered, stroking her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. She pursed her mouth closed even tighter than it already was, making sure there was no way he could put one of his disgusting, weasley fingers inside of it.

"We didn't break up."

"Oh, really?" His other hand dropped and grabbed her backside, pulling her against the front of him. "Then why the tears?" he whispered on her cheek, his tongue darting out to probe her ear.

She took advantage of the position they were in and and raised her knee ever-so-slightly, forcefully hitting him in the manly bits. He crouched down, grunting in pain and shutting his eyes. Blair scooted away from him and he braced his hands on the wall, clutching his crotch in agony.

"It's been a pleasure, Jack," Blair stated as she left the small hallway. He opened his eyes slightly, still squinting, and let out a grunt of a chuckle as she exited.

Walking back out into the now crowded bar, Blair suddenly realized she didn't want to go home. She wasn't sure where, exactly, she _did_ want to go, though. Anywhere but there. Under the judging eyes of her mother.

She must have blacked out, because Blair did not remember getting in an elevator. She shook the fog out of her head as she mindlessly rapped on the door, not fully aware of how real this was.

"Nathanial, back so – Oh, Waldorf," Chuck swung the door open and widened his eyes at the side of her. She could only imagine how she looked now – messed up curls, mascara-striped face, dress in complete and total disarray.

"Um, can I come in?" she asked shyly, batting her eyelashes (why? Why was she batting her eyelashes? She and Nate had just broken up...it didn't make any sense!).He didn't respond, only opened the door wider and gestured for her to enter.

She followed him deeper into the hotel room, and studied his appearance. He seemed to be doing so much better than the last couple of times she'd seen him. His hair was combed and he was dressed in a gray pinstriped suit paired with a pale blue shirt – the top few buttons undone – but no tie (because of the lateness of the hour in the business world, she was guessing; after all, it was already almost eight thirty).

Chuck sat down on the sofa in the main room of his suite and she followed suit, smoothing the tulle of her dress under her. He eyes her quizzically and when she caught him, immediately looked away. Chuck rose and busied himself by fixing a glass of neat scotch.

"Can I get you something to drink?" he asked, taking a swig from his own glass.

"I'll take one of those," she nodded to what he was drinking, and he looked shocked.

"I didn't know you liked your liquor strong," he murmured, picking up another glass and filling it halfway before striding back over to her and handing it over. She took a sip and winced before chugging down the rest of what was in there.

"More," she managed to choke out. He followed orders, heading back to the drink cart and filling his own glass back up as well.

"Care to tell me why you're so thirsty all of a sudden, Blair?" He used her first name again. Or had she imagined that? The martini from earlier mixed with the little bit of scotch and made her vision cloudy, her hearing muffled – therefore, she wasn't sure what was in her head and what was truly happening.

"Nate and I had a fight," she responded, point-blank. He handed her the glass, nodding interestedly. "Actually I think we broke up. Why don't you seem surprised?" she asked him, glaring accusingly.

"Anyone with half a brain could've seen that coming a mile away, Waldorf. You and Nate haven't exactly clicked in the last few years or so..." he swigged the rest of his liquor and she did the same. Now it slid down smoothly and she handed the glass over once more. "Maybe you should pace yourself," he warned, pausing.

"Shuddup and pour, Bass." She was already beginning to slur a bit. Apparently, not eating dinner before she'd left home hadn't been the smartest idea she'd ever had. Blair yanked the scotch from his hands and set it on the table in front of her, glaring at nothing in particular.

"Do you want to...uh, talk about it then? Because I'm not really the Dr. Phil type." He held her eyes and she broke the contact, looking down at her lap as tears formed in her eyes.

"Chuck...I could never burden you with my petty boyfriend problems. You're going through enough."

"It's fine if you need to talk, though...I mean, I'll be about as helpful as a brick wall, but..." she smirked at him, and suddenly felt something shift in her abdomen. Like her stomach was on fire and racing up her esophagus.

"I don't feel very well...maybe I should go," Blair commented, swallowing and taking a deep breath.

"Can I ask you something before you do?"

"Sure."

"You said something about knowing how I had a crush on you when we were younger. How'd you know?" he seemed genuinely curious, and she decided to go ahead and tell him.

"Do you remember having a video camera around a lot when you were little? 'Cause, well, there are these tapes...and I..." she giggled, her face reddening embarrassingly, "I watched them. You were so cuuute! Those little dimples, and innocent eyes...I sorta fell in love, to be honest. Oops!" Blair's eyes widened and she covered her mouth. "You didn't hear that," she whispered conspiratorially.

Chuck furrowed his eyebrows and studied her face for a moment. "How do I know you're telling the truth? You are obviously hammered beyond belief, after all."

"Because...I saw the one from your first swim. That was when you told your dad. He made you feel bad though...and I felt bad watching it too." Her vocabulary really wasn't that great when intoxicated, was it? She felt another wave of nausea and gripped her mouth, running for the bathroom. She heard footsteps behind her and assumed Chuck was close behind.

She'd assumed right. He leaned against the door frame, obviously baffled, and watched her puke her guts out (apparently it was nothing for a guy to watch something that gruesome). She wiped her mouth on a tissue and washed her hands after she'd flushed the toilet.

"Mouthwash is under the sink." He pointed to a cabinet and Blair smiled back at him ruefully before pulling out the bottle of Listerine and swishing it around in her mouth. She spat into the sink and ran some more water to wash it down the drain.

"I should probably get going," Blair said once they were back in the living room and she had checked her phone (somehow, it was ten-fifteen already; where in the hell had all the time gone?). "Um, thanks for the...er, help." She sighed and Chuck walked her to the door.

"I'm sure you and Nate'll be back to picking out china patterns in no time," he said, somewhat flatly. She ran her eyes up his body until they met his dark brown ones and felt her mouth fall open. She licked her lips and removed her hand from the doorknob, going over to him.

"I think that proper thanks are in order, actually," she murmured, tugging on the lapel of his suit and pulling him down to her (a move that only drunk Blair would make, because sober Blair wouldn't dare be so audacious). Their lips touched chastely at first, until she decided to turn it up a bit. Her soft lips moved against his thin, chapped ones, and her tongue delved into his warm, waiting mouth (notice that _Chuck_ did nothing, just stood there and took it).

"Mmm," she giggled into his mouth. "You taste like scotch and vanilla..." she smiled and he seemed to give in, grabbing onto her hair and tugging ever-so-slightly. She watched him as they kissed, his eyes closed (hers open), his breathing heavy on the soft skin of her face. They moved backwards, and then, abruptly, they weren't in the same vicinity.

It made Blair wonder if she'd been day-dreaming the whole thing. But when she looked around, she found that she was in fact, farther away from the door than she'd been before, indicative of the fact that she had moved.

And Chuck's lips had her lovely shade of Dior smudged all over them.

"You need to leave," he said, voice shaking. Why? Why did she have to leave? She wanted to feel this way forever; free, warm, and...happy. There was no weight on her shoulders, and Blair was living second to second, not thinking about consequences. Chuck was showing her what real life was; how to enjoy it. Why did she need to go _now_?

"But -"

"I mean it, Blair." First name...but this time, it sounded like acid coming out of his mouth. "Get out. Please." He didn't meet her eyes and she felt tears well in her eyes for the umpteenth time that evening.

It was like she was being broken all over again.

_**Holy crap. Yeah, review please? **_


	11. Not A Dream

**Title: **Chuck's Secrets

**Author:** BookCaseGirl

**Date:** April 13, 2010

**Rating: **Mostly T...some could be M.

**Classification:** Drama...with the romance that can only be described as Chuck and Blair :)

_**Summary: Blair discovers some hidden tapes in Bart Bass's office after his funeral, and when she views them, she learns some interesting tidbits about Chuck's life (childhood and beyond). As she struggles with her own life at school and her **__**relationship**_ _**with Nate, she finds that these tapes unleash some unlikely feelings for her fellow scheming partner.**_

**Author's Note:** I suck for not having updating sooner. The updates will become regular...don't take this as a bad sign, please! Oh yeah...sorry my titles are annoyingly repetitive. I'm running out of ways to say "tape, video, etc" I'm running out of ideas for what tapes should contain...anyone with ideas, tell me in a review please, or PM me, whatever works. I couldn't come up with one for this chapter...hence how short it is and lacking in the tape department :(

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gossip Girl. Sorry.

_

* * *

_

_Not A Dream_

_**This could be an...opportunity**_

_**If you promise to let it**_

_**If you promise to let it grow**_

_**Tulips (Bloc Party)**_

The annoying ring of her alarm clock woke Blair bright and early the next morning. Her head throbbed and her eyes burned. Her mouth was dry, her entire being tingling with...what? She didn't know. Probably the essence of a hangover. Her mind was splitting down the middle and she found it difficult to form thoughts that weren't completely unrelated to one another.

And then her damn phone decided to ring. _Perrrrfect_, she thought to herself bitterly.

"Hello?" she had trouble hiding the irritation in her voice. Couldn't she just sleep a while longer?

"B! Hey! Wanna go out to breakfast? I was thinking that little cafe on fifth?" It was Serena's excited and bubbling voice that caused Blair to wince and pull the phone away from her ear. She fought the urge to just hang up on her lively friend, and instead plastered her cell-phone to her ear once again.

"No," she said flatly. Serena's sad sigh could be heard, and Blair did not feel the tiniest bit of guilty. She felt like _shit_ and going to breakfast with the blond who'd been stealing her boyfriend away was the _last_ thing she wanted right now. It was too complicated. She didn't want to deal with it; not now, when she felt like she'd been run over by a fucking freight train.

"Fine. Talk to you later, then?" Serena sounded hopeful once more, and Blair tried to push down her feelings of remorse (the last thing Serena deserved from her right now). She was more than angry at her former best friend, and couldn't stand to be on the phone with her for one more second.

"Sure." _Whatever_, she added to herself before clicking off without a goodbye. Blair sat up more in bed, rubbing her face with the palms of her hands and digging the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. She opened her eyes again to the blinding sunlight that was being let in through the windows (_why _weren't the curtains drawn? She needed to remember to kill Dorota later).

What had _happened_ last night, anyway?

She literally _never _got drunk, and now here she was, in bed with the mother of all hangovers. And no recollection...

Oh, _shit_. Shit, shit, shit, shit!

She scrambled around in bed, unable to believe what was coming back to her in flashbacks. She'd told Chuck about the tapes!? How could she have been so utterly stupid? And she had gone to his room...that was most important...she had gone to _his_ room and gotten hammered. And he had _allowed_ this to happen.

Blair touched her lips as the final memory washed over her. She could still taste his mouth on hers – the vanilla, the scotch...that teeny, tiny hint of cigar. A feeling of euphoria washed over her, and she rubbed the goosebumps that had formed on her arms. Blair picked up her cell-phone.

Just as she was about to dial, though, she put it back down on her night-stand. Then picked it right back up again. She dialed this time, and listened as the phone rang once, twice, thrice, before his gruff voice answered. Well, _he_ certainly didn't sound hungover. Damn him.

"We need to talk. I'll come over for breakfast in ten." She clicked off without leaving any place for Chuck to get a word in edge-wise. Getting up, Blair ran her brush through her wavy hair and grabbed a hair-tie from her night-stand, using it to haphazardly pull her brown locks back in a ponytail. Dashing into her bathroom, she grabbed a pale shade of lip gloss, spread it across her lips, and swiped on some mascara before running back into her room.

Blair Waldorf was not one to rush the art of getting ready for a new day, but today was different. She needed answers. She scurried into her humongous closet and pulled out a random pair of old Guess jeans and a pink light-weight BCBG sweater. After throwing on her outfit, she jogged downstairs and impatiently waited for the elevator to drop her in the lobby.

Five minutes later, a cab had been hailed, and Blair ferociously pulled her fingers through her hair, trying to adjust it as best she could (which was not very much given how much hair spray was still sticking to it from the evening before). She took out a compact and dabbed around her puffy eyes, before finally getting so frustrated that she just whipped a pair of sunglasses out of her purse and placed them on the bridge of her nose.

She held her head in her hands for the entire car ride over, trying to maybe-possibly-probably-not get two minutes of shut-eye. However, it was a normal day for the rest of New York City, and no one really cared about Blair Waldorf being hungover. She realized this with great chagrin and lay her head back on the seat for the remainder of the ride, trying to get some sort of relaxation in before the dreaded confrontation.

Mere seconds after this thought popped into her head, the cab came to an abrupt stop. Blair jerked forward and let out an angry squeal, fighting the urge to slap the back of the cab driver's head before she left. Needless to say, there was no tip for him. She stomped into the Palace, only quieting her steps when numerous people began to stare at her. Riding the elevator up eighteen floors, she pulled out her compact and checked her makeup (what little she'd had time to apply, that is).

The mascara was clumpy and she picked at it as best she could, to no real avail (meaning she left her sunglasses on, and intended to keep them on until she'd left the building); her lipstick...well, it would do for now. Otherwise, there wasn't a whole lot she could do to fix her less-than-perfect appearance, and Blair would have to accept that. Short of a shower magically manifesting right outside Chuck's room, there wasn't a way for her to look flawless when she saw him this morning.

A quiet _ping_ caught Blair's attention and she stepped through the open door of the elevator car, exhaling a loud breath and twirling her ponytail a bit before stopping in front of eighteen-twelve. She rapped on the door twice before it swung open. The overwhelming smell of a Bass man instantly enveloped her and she felt herself become lightheaded.

Couldn't think.

No air.

She inhaled. There, that was better.

"Hey," he greeted her simply, his voice softer than normal (_Out of character, _Blair thought confusedly).

"Hi," she replied, her voice gravelly with early-morning phlegm. Though she had vowed to leave them on, Blair's Coach sunglasses were removed from her face before she entered the suite. Chuck opened the door wider and let her in, and instantly, she had a piece of last night back. _Door swinging open; her walking inside, not fully aware of her actions._

He was dressed in a simple black suit with a pinstriped purple shirt and plaid maroon tie. His shoes shone as if they'd recently been polished (or were brand new, she supposed), and his hair was gelled. Again, she noticed (with extreme disgust) that he was not even half as hungover as her. Chuck didn't appear to be hungover at all.

They sat down at the bar on the far side of his hotel room's living room, and it appeared that Chuck was able to read her mind, because the first thing out of his mouth was, "I've been drinking hard liquor since sixth grade; I can hold it pretty well by now." He smirked at her and pushed three Advil and a glass of...something that was _definitely_ not normally consumed by humans.

At her questioning face, Chuck simply stated, "You'll feel better quicker if you drink it. Your choice; a day and a half of hell, or over in one quick minute." She rolled her eyes and plugged her nose while chugging down the thick liquid. It had a scaly texture as it coated her throat. The glass was empty after what seemed like hours upon hours of him standing there, watching her drink pure sludge.

When Blair unplugged her nose, she gagged profusely, coughing and spitting repeatedly. Turning towards the bar, she noticed a hand holding out a tall glass of water. She took it greedily, sipping quickly, but making sure to take small sips.

After she had finished her water, Chuck eyed her, as if he wasn't sure what to make of Blair Waldorf sitting at his bar at seven-thirty-four in the morning, hungover as hell. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak.

"What's this all about then, Waldorf?"

"I think we need to, um, talk about whatever happened last night."

"Nothing happened," Chuck replied, shrugging and turning around. Blair stood and walked to the other side of the bar, managing to still keep a friendly distance from him.

"Chuck. You call a kiss nothing?" she asked him, brows furrowed in concentration. He turned around, and his eyes flared.

"It's not _my fault_ that you got smashed and _threw yourself_ at me. I don't understand why it needs to be _discussed_," Chuck hissed furiously. She backed up a step or two, taken aback, and his eyes softened. Blair stilled, unsure of where, exactly this was going.

Her head spun, her lips were on the verge of quivering. She was nervous as all hell and her hands were sweating. A warm red was spreading up her neck and into her cheeks and forehead, and suddenly, Blair wanted nothing more to return home and crawl under the covers. She was ashamed; Blair Waldorf didn't whore herself out to Chuck Bass, no matter how drunk she was.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, tears burning in the corners of her eyes.

"No, Blair..." Chuck responded quietly, staring out the window beyond her shoulder. "Don't be. It's not your fault. I was...I should've stopped you. _I'm_ sorry."

"Jesus Christ, we sound like we're in seventh grade," Blair said laughingly, her lips turning up (head pounding in response to the tears and laughter) in a slight smile. He let out a small chuckle, adam's apple bobbing happily, and glanced up at her eyes.

Her heart sped up, and she felt her already pink face darken more. His eyes searched her face, and if Blair wasn't mistaken, he was coming closer to her. Chuck stopped only about six inches from her body and she shuddered inwardly, trying to remain composed and keep the Waldorf essence emanating from her being.

"So, uh...what now?" she asked nervously, shifting her weight so it was all on one foot, and jutting her right hip out to the side slightly. Chuck's eyes drifted down and she noticed the light brown orbs darken as they ran hungrily over the curve that her lower body provided.

"You've broken up with Nate?" he questioned, probing her eyes for any trace of deceit. She kept her expression honest (because there was absolutely nothing to lie about), and smiled at him.

"Yes."

He didn't say anything more, only stepped even closer to her. Blair's body felt like it was experiencing its very own earthquake, and she was afraid that she may faint at any second. Suddenly, the warm coarseness of Chuck's hands was surrounding her own soft, cool ones and his lips were an angel's breath away from her own. Ever so gently, Chuck touched his lips to her own.

She couldn't control herself; it was too hard. Blair immediately disentangled their hands and wove her own through his short, thick hair, pulling his face closer to hers. Chuck was intent upon teasing her, though, and still kept the kissing close-mouthed, holding their lips together in a good thirty-second meld.

Since when did Chuck exercise self restraint? Since _when_ did Chuck Bass seem almost...God, romantic couldn't be the right word, could it? Blair stared at him open-mouthed when they'd pulled away, and he held her gaze (didn't look away shyly, as one may have thought). The contact was mind-bogglingly intense, and Blair felt the heat of their chemistry to her core.

How hadn't she realized this before? Surely it hadn't always been there; maybe it had just come up more recently, and Blair really wasn't as insane as it'd seemed. Because this insane pull – it was so strong, it felt like life or death (be alive with him, or dead without). He was the center of her orbit now, it seemed. And Blair hadn't the faintest idea where it had come from.

"Do you...I mean, should we give this a try?" Blair asked him cautiously, looking up into his beautifully secretive eyes with her innocent, doe-like ones. She folded her arms across her chest self-consciously when Chuck did not answer right away. He merely stared at her, looking as if he were calculating something in his head.

"Maybe...Perhaps we should seize this opportunity," he murmured, beginning to pace. Chuck wore a worried expression, and Blair sat down, his apprehension transferring to her. "But, I think it's important that we keep this from...people," he muttered, throwing Blair a sideways glance. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion, and he sat down next to her.

"This isn't going to be very easy," Chuck said, looking at her with concern. "I'll tell you right now; I'm not built to be a Nathanial Archibald. My armor was tarnished long ago, and my white horse is dirtier than the hookers on Fourth Street's corner. But maybe...maybe this will work."

She nodded. "We can grow. It just takes time." Blair spoke very softly, looking into his eyes and breathing in the air that he let out. For a moment, she thought they were the same; two people sharing one body. She shook her head slightly, trying to rid of this childish naivety.

"I don't think it's a good idea keeping this from everyone, Chuck," she told him, trying to be gentle. She didn't want to stir anything up among the Non-Judging Breakfast Club. That was the last thing Blair (or anyone else) needed at this point.

"Let's just wait, alright?" By the look on his face, Chuck's tone had come out sharper than he'd originally planned, but this did not bother Blair. She grasped his hands again and held them atop her lap. Laying her head onto his comfortably warm shoulder, Blair wished for this to be real. For it not to be the dream she was sure that it was.

But as Chuck's lips found the side of her head and lightly kissed her hair just above her ear, she knew that it was real. This was as real as anything would ever be for Blair Waldorf.

_**Aaah. Sorry, I got all fluffy on everyone. Review, pleeeease.**_


	12. The Eighth Tape

**Title: **Chuck's Secrets

**Author:** BookCaseGirl

**Date:** February 21, 2011

**Rating: **Mostly T...some could be M.

**Classification:** Drama...with the romance that can only be described as Chuck and Blair :)

_**Summary: Blair discovers some hidden tapes in Bart Bass's office after his funeral, and when she views them, she learns some interesting tidbits about Chuck's life (childhood and beyond). As she struggles with her own life at school and her relationship**_ _**with Nate, she finds that these tapes unleash some unlikely feelings for her fellow scheming partner.**_

**Author's Note:** Hello, all. This is really my first big foray back, I guess you could say. Anyone who's been following what I've written knows I've attempted a bit since last year...but, nothing's really felt right, if that makes sense. I got discouraged, and then I had some difficulties personally...Long story short, I'm back now, and that's what matters..? lol. Wow this got oddly formal. Anyways, just to let you know about the plan for the rest of this story – unless something strikes me that makes me want to make it much longer, I've planned things out and this'll have about three more chapters (after this one). After that, well, who knows? Perhaps a sequel..it's definitely crossed my mind. For now though, happy reading! :)

**Special Note: Towards the end of the chapter, there are certain parts that may be rated M. If that makes you uncomfortable, feel free to skip it. You won't have missed much! Also, I'd like to take an opportunity to thank Lauren for being fabulous and encouraging me to keep going with this :) **

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gossip Girl. Sorry.

* * *

_The Eighth Tape_

**One Month Later...**

"Ow, Bass!" She squealed as they fell back on the bed, tangled in one another's limbs. Blair felt something being wedged against her lower back, and pulled out a DVD case. Before she could toss it aside nonchalantly, Chuck's eyes landed on it, his hands following where his eyes were dwelling.

"What's this?" he breathed as they settled in atop the silk covering on Blair's bed.

"Um...that...well, there are these tapes -"

"I thought that was just drunken blather..." he muttered under his breath. Blair looked up at him in confusion and disbelief.

"...What?" she asked.

"That night you came to my hotel room...drunk. You were talking about some tapes, a video camera...I barely remember it, honestly. But, technically, you've told me about this before. It's just that neither of us really remembers." He smirked at her with a twinkle in his eye.

With a sigh, Blair fell back against her down-filled pillows. Mere moments later, Chuck was right next to her, cuddling (since when did Chuck _cuddle_? She was giddy at the thought) into her side. They lay there for a few minutes, in the purest of silences – no discomfort, nothing hanging over them. Blair wished to herself that every day could be precisely like this moment – without worry of interruption, or some sort of dark cloud looming above.

"Hey, I have an idea," Blair mumbled into Chuck's warm, muscle-y, suit-covered arm. She lifted her head up and looked at him through half-closed eyes (being in his arms had an oddly calming, anesthetizing effect on her).

"What?" he whispered, his soft, plump lips touching the tip of her nose delicately. Her eyes closed at the sensation and momentarily she forgot where she was, a small smile gracing the porcelain features of her face.

"We should watch it together," she replied softly, so that their conversation was becoming one only they could hear, in their little bubble of young love.

"Hmm?" Chuck murmured against the supple skin of her slender neck as his lips made a pattern of short, wet kisses along its base. She giggled, causing the skin to vibrate against his lips and gently pushed him to the side. He captured her lips with his own briefly before settling back against the pillows once more.

"We should watch the video together," she repeated quietly, gazing into his eyes. Their eye contact broke for a moment as he looked down, eyes suddenly covered with a shadow (of what, Blair couldn't tell).

"Why don't we see what it's about first." Chuck picked up the plastic case and turned it over in his hands until he could read a title. _First Bike Ride_. He chuckled quietly and handed Blair the case, giving a small nod.

She smiled back at him, getting off the bed and striding over to get her laptop. After returning, Blair popped the disc into her computer and settled back into Chuck's side. He hit play, and the screen lit up with a Chuck Bass who looked about fourteen years younger.

His hair was long, unruly, curly. Summer-bleached blond hair replaced his current darkened from pubescence mat of hair. The five-year-old Chuck's eyes sparkled with the fervor of youth, and his cheeks were boyishly ruddy and red. His grin was wide as he gazed up at the camera, his child-size Armani sporting wrinkles and a few dirt dust-spots.

"_Ready to try again, there, buddy?"_

Bart sounded different – his voice actually sounded..._happy_.

Blair turned her head and glanced at Chuck. His eyes remained focused on the screen, almost as if his life depended on watching the video that was playing out. She longed to know what was truly going on in his mind. Sure, she could guess (99.9% accurately, of course, since she was Blair Waldorf), but Blair really wanted to _know_ for _sure_ what was going on in there.

"_Yep!" _Chuck answered him cheerily. The camera was placed on what seemed to be a tripod and the screen focused in on Bart helping his son onto the small bicycle. Once Chuck was balanced on the seat, Bart held on to the back and gently pushed (as any parent does during their child's first bike ride) the small boy across the sidewalk.

"_Daddy, let go! Let go, I can do it!"_ Chuck said this confidently, and strangely, Bart was the one who seemed reluctant to let his son go off on his own. Slowly, and carefully, the elder Bass removed his hands from the bike and let Chuck go off on his own.

A squeal of delight erupted from the little boy as he pedaled, testing the waters of his new-found freedom.

Chuck jerked and looked out the window.

"_Ahhh!"_ The smaller Chuck screamed as he fell to the sidewalk. Bart had followed him over with the camera, but now the electronic appendage had fallen to the ground with a smash just mere moments after Chuck did. She watched reluctantly as Bart rushed to Chuck – a Chuck whose face had been bloodied by the rough sidewalk cement, and which showed a brand new fire-engine red gash above the right eye.

Chuck had turned back to the computer screen now, and watched with eyes partially closed in a wince. Blair gazed at him, and stopped the DVD. After closing her laptop, she turned to Chuck and reached up to his face, right up near his forehead.

"So that's how you got the scar. You told us that you just fell off the bed..." she rubbed over the light purplish line near his right eyebrow gently with the pad of her index finger. Chuck's eyes closed reflexively in response.

"I thought it was...cliche, lame. I didn't want Nate to mention it to you guys; I didn't want to be a laughing stock. I realize now it was...fairly stupid, a kiddish thing to do. But it's a little late to un-do that lie..." he turned and shook his head, a wistfully pensive ghost of a smile forming on his lips. Chuck touched his own hand to the scar on his eyebrow and let out a sigh that sounded as if it held ten years' worth of pent-up air.

"It's not a big deal. I just...wish you would've known then that you could trust us enough not to lie," Blair murmured softly to Chuck, brushing her lips against the side of his face. His small smile disappeared and a smirk replaced it as he turned his head and planted a long kiss on her mouth.

"Thank you," he told her, looking into her eyes with seriousness and sincerity.

"You're welcome," she replied, smiling into the kisses that followed.

"Now then, let's stop with all this sappy-ness, shall we, Waldorf?" Chuck's lips trailed down the line of her jaw to the tip of her chin. From there, he went down the center of her neck, to the small furrow of cleavage she had. He kissed and nipped at what he could without needing to remove her shirt and lightly pressed his lips against her cloth-covered tummy.

Her hands were entwined in his hair, and she gently yanked him back up to her face. He was about to dive in for another heated kiss, but she stopped him with the palm of her hand, pushing his lips away from her. Chuck looked at her with bewilderment, looked _to_ her for direction, some sort of explanation. She did not respond, but merely traced the scar and brought his forehead to her lips. Blair placed a kiss on the scar and as cheesy as it may have been (and as much as he would never repeat it again) he knew he would remember the imprint of her lips in that spot forever.

Chuck unbuttoned the front of Blair's blouse, leaving a kiss in the wake of each separated area of fabric. She shrugged out of the garment and his eyes widened at the gorgeous black lace that provided a stark contrast to the milky silk of her round, plump breasts.

She gazed up at him, stroking the unshaven sandpaper (while it sounded unappealing, she found it to be a turn-on) on his chin, and wondering if he was criticizing or appreciating what he saw.

"You like?" she asked him coyly, smirking (trying to hide what insecurities she felt). She could see in his eyes that he knew how she truly felt, and that he believed she needn't feel such ways.

"I love..." he murmured against the skin of her bosom. She gasped at the feel of his warm tongue probing around atop the skin, and memorized the sensation to keep locked away for a later date (just in case). She mewed as his tongue delved under the fabric of her bra and found a nipple, gasped at the lack of contact when it pulled away.

He chuckled quietly. "Naughty little kitten..." he whispered upon her lips before kissing her once more. She laughed quietly, throatily, closing her eyes and getting lost in the sensation of Chuck Bass.

**Phew. Review, pretty please...?**


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